


Far Fallen from the Blooded Tree

by AudreyCherry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Coming of Age, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyCherry/pseuds/AudreyCherry
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Reader, Harry Potter/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1 - Forced Greetings

“Y/N! Hurry up, dear!” a voice called from downstairs. “We’ll be late getting to your auntie’s!” 

I shot up from my bed in a panic.  _ Oh, no! I’m not ready!  _ “One moment, muuum!” I called back as I rushed to put on some sort of presentable outfit. “Give me ten minutes!” 

“Five!” I heard a deeper, sterner voice respond. It was Father. 

“Seven and a half!” I negotiated, laughing. I packed the rest of my belongings away in my suitcase, making sure my uniform was on top so I could change later on without digging around too much. After being satisfied that I had everything, I ran down the stairs holding the heavy suitcase overhead. I came to a halt at the landing, narrowly avoiding slamming into the front door. 

“Y/N, you’re getting too old now to keep sleeping in as you do. You’d best not oversleep come the start of term,” Father said sternly as I lowered my suitcase to the ground.

I rolled my eyes, “I won’t, dad.” I slipped on my shoes in a rush as Father walked out the door to start the car.

“Oh Y/N, your hair isn’t even brushed,” sighed Mother. “Brush it in the car. We don’t have time to wait around any longer. Now go. Go.” She rushed to hand me my hairbrush off the front door credenza, then pushed me out the door with my luggage. 

“Wait! My cat! Oregano, come on!” I called quickly. Oregano sat up from the couch where she was sleeping and ran over and out the door. 

Mother closed and locked the house door behind her as Father honked the car’s horn to signal he was growing impatient. I threw my luggage into the trunk, picked up Oregano, and jumped into the backseat of the vehicle.

“Buckle up. It’s no short ride,” Mother instructed as she clicked her own belt.

“Mum, why can’t you just drive me to King’s Cross yourselves? Why must we go to Auntie Radella’s first?” I asked, hoping that maybe, for whatever reason, they’d change their minds and turn around. I didn’t really like Auntie Radella and her husband, Uncle Morton. They weren’t the nicest people I’d ever met. I had only just recently discovered they existed about two years ago when I received my letter to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At first, I was happy to learn I had more family. I had always wondered why my mother never talked about her side of the family much, but I’d grown to understand why–-not entirely, but I knew enough to know they weren’t the most delightful of people, so I couldn’t blame Mother for not wanting to talk to them. However, it did make me wonder why she now got so happy to go and see them and insisted on sending me to them before the start of each school year. 

“We’ve been over this, Y/N. They are the only wizarding family you have. Your father and I think it’ll be good for you to spend a little bit of time in the wizarding world before heading off to school. And besides, they know their way around Dagony Alley. We would be of no help to you, dear,” Mother responded, turning around in her seat to look at me.

“Diagon Alley,” I corrected in a small, disappointed tone.

“My point exactly,” Mother smiled, turning back around.

“If it means anything, Y/N, I don’t much like sending you off to your mum’s sister’s myself. I don’t like them people,” Father said, sharing his opinion on the matter-, which obviously wasn’t the right move to make, given as Mother slapped his arm, giving him a harsh glare.

“Leland Reginald Y/L/N! Be nice, will you!” Mother hushed.

I was excited for school to start back up, but I wasn’t much excited to see my aunt and uncle. I huffed and crossed my arms as I slumped in my seat, but I quickly sat back up in a fright as Mother snapped at me to brush my hair.

After a couple of hours of staring out the car window, we finally arrived. Father, still behind the wheel, came to a rolling stop as a pair of enormous wrought-iron gates with a large, ornate letter  _ P _ prevented him from continuing any further. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blue flash of light in the air. I brought my head up off the window and looked towards the location of the flash. In its spot, off to the right of the gates, was a nasty-looking creature. It was short, and its face was all wrinkled like a grave old man. Its large ears flopped as the beast walked to Mother’s window. Mother rolled down the window to greet the creature. 

“Ah, Madam Luella. It’s been so long. Welcome back. You may enter,” greeted the creature. 

Mother smiled. “Thank you, Monster.”

The creature was named  _ Monster?  _ I mean, sure, it was an ugly looking thing, but I thought Monster was a bit harsh.

Monster nodded at Mother and gestured towards the gates. The gates slowly started to creep open, and Father nudged forward. Mother rolled up the window. 

“Mum…” I started wondering if I should ask my question. 

“Yes, dear?” she responded, cocking her head to the side.

“What  _ was _ that thing? Monster -- er, I mean to say his name! Not that I’m calling him a monster!” I stumbled horribly over my words.

Mother chuckled. “I know what you mean, don’t worry. Monster is a House Elf. He is a magical creature that serves under noble wizarding families. He was your grandparents’ before they passed, and now he belongs to your aunt and uncle,” she informed me. 

_ Belongs?  _ That was a very possessive way to put it. And to be named Monster? What kind of people did Mother come from? I sighed, just shrugging it off. I leaned my head back against the window and watched as the neatly cut hedges passed. The front garden of my aunt’s was particularly large and very well-kept. My front garden could never compare, and our house, while not small by any means, was no competition for the manor my mysterious family resided in. 

Chills overtook my body as the sun fell behind the trees. The sight of thick fog flooding the front garden was an eerie thing to witness. It definitely didn’t make the manor any more inviting; in fact, it did quite the opposite. Finally, we reached the front doors. The building was large, and its Jacobean architecture, complete with an ivy-covered facade, made it all the more creepy. 

Monster appeared right outside of my car door and opened it for me. I gave him a sheepish smile and nodded in thanks. I was about to circle around to pop the trunk, but Monster stopped me. 

“No, no, allow me, Miss Y/N.” Monster waved me off and jumped into the trunk, trying to pull my heavy luggage out, then finally gave up. With a snap of his long, bony fingers, he made the luggage float out of the trunk. I watched in wonder. Who knew such a small thing could do magic with such ease? 

Father and Mother stood on each side of me as we approached the bottom of the stairs. The giant oak double doors opened wide to show my uncle and aunt. My aunt lifted her arms and glided down the stairs with poise.

“Oh, Luella! How good it is to see you again!” my aunt exclaimed, giving Mother a hug. My aunt glanced down at me with a smile, patted my cheek, and lifted my head by the chin. “Oh, and Y/N, you darling little creature. Welcome back home. I trust you’ll enjoy staying with us again for a couple of days before school starts back up.” She let out a small chuckle. “Your cousin is up in her room, now run along.” 

I looked at Mother and Father with pleading eyes. However, Mother waved me off just the same. I sighed. 

“Yes, Auntie,” I exhaled and started up the stairs. 

“Miss Y/N, please follow me,” instructed Monster. He slowly stepped up the stairs, my luggage following behind him. 

As I neared the landing, Uncle Morton stood there still with his hands behind his back. I caught his gaze, but he said nothing. I gave him an awkward smile and greeted him. “Evening, Uncle Morton.”

“Y/N,” he simply responded with the slightest tilt of his head. His gaze reverted back to his wife and sister-in-law, Mother and Auntie Radella. 

Walking past Uncle Morton, I finally entered the manor through the large polished and ornate doors. The interior was just as extravagant as the exterior. The beauty of the place always took me by surprise. I glanced down at my attire, and, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the pattern of detailed tiles that made up the foyer floor, suddenly felt very out of place. I looked back up and saw Monster waiting at yet another staircase. This staircase, however, was marble and curved to meet its mirrored counterpart, forming a graceful double staircase. 

I groaned, not wanting to climb any more stairs. My feet dragged behind me, but alas, I made my way up to the top, and Monster continued to show me to the room I’d be staying in. The room always changed, for whatever reason. I never stayed in the same room more than once. I supposed it could be a sick way to flaunt their wealth, but in the end, I honestly hadn’t the slightest idea. 

Monster set my luggage down at the end of the bed I was to sleep in for the next couple nights. He bade me goodnight after telling me how I could contact him if I found myself ever needing anything. As I knelt down to open my luggage and pull out my nightwear, I heard a soft thud on the door frame. 

“Oh, you’re here,” an annoyed voice said from behind me.

I turned around to see who it was, and it was my cousin. “Oh… Evening, Pansy...” I greeted, ignoring the apparent distaste in her voice. “How have you been?”

“I was fine before you got here. I don’t know why Mother insists you come and live with us,” she huffed, pushing herself off the doorsill. “Be sure to make yourself unheard while you’re here. Better yet, always,” she urged and left, presumably to return to her own room. 

I furrowed my brows in confusion. She was typically quite rude, but I didn’t know much as to why. I sighed and got up to close the bedroom door. Finally, I was able to get changed and made my way to bed. Oregano hopped atop the bed and curled up in my lap. I hoped to be back at Hogwarts soon enough. 

The next morning, I had woken up to Monster knocking on the bedroom door to let me know breakfast would soon be ready. I let out a sizable gaping yawn and reached my arms above my head, stretching long and hard as I lay still in bed. A small soft exhale escaped me as I turned onto my side and stared out the door, contemplating getting out of bed. Pansy, with her usual disapproving scowl, appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed. 

“Well?” She stood tapping her foot in annoyance. I sat up in bed, giving her my full attention. “Are you coming?” 

I nodded and slid out of bed, “give me a minute, I’ll be down in a second,” I informed her. I knelt beside my bed and pulled my slippers out from under it and slid them on. I then combed my hair and pulled it back into a loose ponytail. 

Pansy tilted her head, signaling that we were to go. I did a funny walk towards her, just slower than a jog but quicker than an average walking pace. She started down the curved marble stairs and I followed suit, matching her speed. 

“So, how are you this morning, Pansy?” I called to her from behind. She did not respond. I didn’t expect her to, but it was worth the effort, I suppose. I let out a small sigh, and we made it to the bottom of the steps. 

The foyer was a grand but empty marble room that led to many different areas in the large manor. Pansy and I took an immediate left off the stairs, and we were brought to the breakfast dining room–which is never to be confused with the formal dining room just off from the home office and library in the west wing. That being said, the breakfast area was by no means any less pompously absurd in its efforts to look like it belonged to the Queen herself. In the middle of the morning-sun-lit dinette was a fairly long rectangular wooden table. Six chairs, all complete with dark green velvet cushions and ornately carved arms and legs, sat around the table. 

Sat at the far end of the table, facing us, was Uncle Morton. He sat like a king in his chair, his elbow resting on the arm and his hand propping up his head as he read a newspaper that was unmistakably the  _ Daily Prophet.  _ Auntie Radella, sitting to Uncle’s left, sipped at her hot morning tea, as she read a ridiculously large business ledger that looked to be several decades or even centuries old. The Parkinsons were a proud family of three. My Auntie was the inherited owner of a shoppe not too far off from Diagon Alley, though she never disclosed what services she provided. Her husband, Uncle Morton, worked for the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Education. Their sole daughter, my cousin, Pansy Parkinson, was in the same year as I and belonged to Slytherin House. I saw her around quite often at Hogwarts, but to no avail, she always shrugged me off. 

Uncle Morton noticed my and Pansy’s presence. He flicked the newspaper in hand making it fall limp and looked up at us. “Good morning, girls,” he greeted, gesturing with his empty hand towards the vacant seats to his right, telling us to take a seat then grabbed his teacup to take a sip.

“Good morning Father… Mother,” Pansy greeted back, taking a seat by Uncle Morton. 

“Morning,” I said softly, still quite uncomfortable with being under their roof. 

I took a seat next to Pansy, and Auntie Radella gazed at me, her sharp pale blue eyes piercing my soul. “I trust you slept well, dear?” she asked with a smile that somehow gave me chills. “I do apologize about the constant switch up in bedding arrangements, we --”

“We’re renovating,” interrupted Uncle Morton, flicking his newspaper once again to make it go stiff. 

I glanced back at Auntie Radella, seeing her discomforting smile again, “It’s alright, I don’t mind - I slept well,” I responded.

Pansy made a dramatic eye-roll that could be felt, “Father, what is it that you’re reading this morning?” she questioned. 

Monster walked in and snapped his long fingers, plates filled with hot breakfast appearing in front of each one of us. “Masters,” he bowed and went his way.

Uncle Morton folded up the  _ Daily Prophet _ newspaper, and grabbed a fork, “Word of an escaped convict,” he answered simply.

“A convict? From Azkaban!” choked Pansy in a bit of shock. “The Ministry is doing something about it, aren’t they?” 

“Yes, of course, The Ministry is doing something,” Auntie Radella answered blatantly, “Now eat your food. We need to get your books today.”

Pansy piped down and ate her food. The whole table was engulfed in silence that I felt to be unbearable. I hurried down my meal in efforts to flee the room sooner. Unknowingly, I dropped my silverware down a bit more harshly than intended, catching the gazes of my aunt and uncle, and a sort of smirk from Pansy as if she enjoyed the discomfort I had immediately felt. 

Auntie Radella eyed me, slowly bringing her teacup off her thin lips, “Pansy dear, why don’t you and Y/N run along now and get ready? We have your shopping to do. Met back down here,” she stated. Pansy roughly sat up from her heavy chair, its legs roughly grating the hardwood floors as it moved backward. 

I looked at Pansy as she huffed off, then turned myself in my chair to get up silently as not to incite any more tension. I jogged my way up the flight of stairs and straight into the room I was assigned to. I closed the door behind me and made for my muggle clothes in my luggage. I took out a plain tee and a pair of socks to match, I pulled on my light-washed jeans from yesterday, put on the socks and shirt then slid on a pair of white tennies. It was a very plain outfit, but I’d stick out no matter since the people of the wizarding world seemed to be more fond of vibrant fabrics, pointy hats, and long cloaks. I looked in the mirror and examined my outfit quickly before brushing out my hair, which was, for the most part, already managed from the first brush through. 

Satisfied with my appearance, and getting over my anxiety of looking like a sore thumb, I hurried back downstairs and into the same room we had eaten breakfast. Pansy and my Aunt and Uncle were already there waiting. 

“Well, then--as we’re all here now, I’ll hand out the powder,” Auntie Radella started. She made her way around handing out fist-fulls of powder to Uncle Morton and Pansy, once she got to me, she handed me my powder and stood there for a while longer, “We’re traveling by Floo Powder today. It’s quite simple--Pansy, dear, will you demonstrate?” 

Pansy then walked into the empty fireplace, which was placed behind the chair Uncle Morton had been sitting previously, and she lifted her hand, which held the powder.

“Clearly now,” Uncle Morton called out.

“Diagon Alley!” Pansy cried in a crisp voice. She threw down the powder at her feet, and she vanished into a fit of bright green flames. 

I jumped back a bit, staring at where Pansy once stood. “Now you, dear creature,” Auntie Radella ushered as she patted me towards the fireplace. I hesitated but managed to gather my nerves and step into the very spot my cousin had just vanished from. 

I lifted my hand with the powder and cried, “Diagon Alley!” 

Seconds later, I came stumbling out of an unfamiliar fireplace. I coughed up the smoke that I had accidentally breathed in and patted off the ash off my attire. Stood in front of me was Pansy waiting patiently, then came Auntie Radella and Uncle Morton behind me all calm and collected as if they didn’t just come from the same very old and dusty chimney I just had. 

“Now,” started Uncle Morton, “Where are we off to first?”

I pulled out my folded list of supplies from Hogwarts from my back pocket. I received it weeks ago by owl, but I haven't given it a look quite yet. I unfolded the tanned parchment to give it a quick look over.

“Quite obviously we need to go to Flourish and Blotts,” Pansy taunted beginning for the door of the building we had appeared inside. “Now come on, I don’t want to be here all day just for a bunch of stupid books. I have people to find.”

My aunt and uncle followed Pansy out the door. I stood for a bit longer than I might should have and hurried out after them. We exited out onto the bustling street of Diagon Alley. It was terrific. I loved the stark difference between the two worlds I lived in, the people here were much more interesting with their vibrant cloaks and funny hats. Many children were running the crowded streets, laughing, and excited to get back to school. Cats pouncing on every ledge and owls chirping lovingly from their cages, the ambiance was so enthralling. 

I walked with my family down the street to get to the bookstore. I gazed off at all the storefronts wondering which I should journey into next after getting my school supplies, though I was pulled out of my trance by a high-pitch squeal of excitement coming from Pansy. I looked at her, and she was absolutely giddy in her boots, she took a deep breath to calm herself then quickly ran off. I suppose she had found who she was hoping to find as she nearly pounced on whomever it was, but through the thick of the moving crowd, all I could see was a glimmer of almost white hair. They walked off together in the same direction we were going. 

Finally, reaching Flourish and Blotts moments later, the storekeeper looked at us in surprise, then quick dread took over his face. “You’re not another third year, are you?” he questioned, looking as if he were about to cry. I nodded, and I could see his heart-shattering. “Oh,” he choked, “one moment then,” he said, fighting with the strange books in his arms. He handed them to none other than Pansy, who had beaten us to the bookstore with whomever she had chased after, but I couldn't quite see who it was since the bookkeeper stood in front of them. “Careful now,” he said gently.

“Ow! It’s bit me! The bloody hell is this?” yelped the boy dropping the book. “I want this damned thing in a bag!” He ordered jumping out the way as the book flipped itself away all about the floor. 

The bookkeeper bowed earnestly and rushed off to go grab a bag. Pansy and the boy ran out of the store in a fuss and waited outside; I could still hear the boy cursing loudly. Auntie Radella followed them out, Uncle Morton and I left alone in the shop. I felt very uncomfortable and decided to step up on the ladder so as not to be attacked by the feral book myself. Soon the bookkeeper returned with a large potato sack for the demanding boy, but out of his frantic hurried pace, he had tripped over the Monster Book. The man screamed as he saw the book darting for his head. 

“Immobulus,” shouted Uncle Morton, his wand pointed towards the book. The Monster book stopped in its tracks, its front cover still a tad open. 

The bookkeeper stumbled up to a stand and grabbed the book throwing it into the sack. “Thank you, thank you, sir. Great thinking!” 

“Yes, now I’ll take that for the boy,” he said monotonously as he put away his wand in his coat pocket. “And another for the girl,” he added, gesturing towards me. He took the sack from the bookkeeper and walked out of the store. 

I looked out the storefront windows and saw Uncle Morton handing the bag to the blond boy; Pansy was still fighting with the monstrous book trying not to drop her other textbooks. I looked back at the bookkeeper, and he was digging around in a large cage that held the books. Finally, he achieved his task and pulled out a yapping furry book. 

“One  _ Monster Book of Monsters,”  _ the bookkeeper said, pushing it into my arms. “Anything else, dear?”

“I need  _ Unfogging the Future _ by Cassandra Vablatsky,  _ Intermediate Transfiguration, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three  _ by Miranda Goshawk, and  _ The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts _ by Arsenius Jigger, sir” I answered trying to recall all my books. 

“Oh, chosen to study divination as well? Come, come,” waved the bookkeeper as he made his way to the back of the store where a corner was devoted to all things fortune-telling. The bookkeeper climbed a ladder and pulled out the divination coursebook. My curious eyes were wandering around, for I was very intrigued by the concept of divination; my Mother still practices it to this day. My eyes fell onto a display of the newest books in the genre. “Oh? That’s  _ Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming.  _ Good book, that is, but for sure will give even the bravest of souls nightmares,” claimed the bookkeeper as he had noticed where my eyes were glued to.

“May I get that one too?” I asked, looking at the man taking  _ Unfogging the Future _ from him. He seemed very distraught as his warning didn’t seem to faze me much at all. 

“Oh, uh… very well, if you insist,” he stuttered, handing me the book under the display. “Now, for the others,” he carried on. Not too soon after, I had all my required textbooks for the start of the new year in my arms plus an extra. I thanked the bookkeeper for his troubles and left the store to be again greeted by the bustling noise of Diagon Alley.

***


	2. Chapter 2- The Hogwarts Express Intruder

Two days had passed since I arrived at the Parkinsons’, and it was now September first, the day we were to go to King’s Cross Station for the express to Hogwarts. I was very excited. I shook out my limbs in excitement and anticipation as I stared at the brick wall between platforms nine and ten. The muggles passing by paid no mind to my antics. 

As I ran through the wall to the other side to get to Platform 9 3/4 , I met the gaze of my extended family who had gone before me. They looked at me, not saying a word, then turned to walk further down the platform. I followed suit until my family broke off as we made our way into the thick of the crowd. 

I squeezed my way through the horde of students and their families to find a clearing large enough to breathe. I set my luggage down flat on the concrete, careful not to lay it on Oregano’s paws. Picking her up, I hugged her to my chest, taking a step atop my luggage to see over the crowd and looked around for where my family could have gone. I circled in my spot a few times over. 

Finally, as a large group of red-heads moved, I found them. They were maybe six or so meters away from where I stood. My Auntie Radella and Uncle Morton were huddled against a pillar talking sternly to my cousin Pansy. From the looks of it, they were telling her something private, I couldn’t make out what was being said, but I didn’t care too much until I caught Uncle Morton’s eye. His brown eyes were cold, and his brows furrowed, as he slowly turned away from me, putting his arm around Pansy’s shoulders to have her turn with him, then their discussion quickly ceased. I was now curious.  _ Did I make them stop talking by just noticing them? _

The train whistle blew, and I stumbled off the top of my luggage, quickly trying to get on board as the train conductor called out for all the remaining students to board the express. Many students had very touching goodbyes; however, I did not. My parents were kilometers away. I felt my nose begin to run from emotions overwhelming me, but I quickly sucked it up when I heard my name being called by Auntie Radella. I turned to look at her as I waited my turn to board.

“Y/N, dear, you behave yourself, okay, you sweet little creature?” she said, patting my cheek with a thin smile. “Send an owl if you ever need anything.” She bopped my nose and looked at her daughter Pansy. “Remember what we discussed,” and with that, she took her husband’s arm in hers, and they were off, disappearing in the crowd of parents. 

I held Oregano tightly in my arms, taking a deep breath, and forced a smile on my face as I finally boarded the train right behind Pansy. I was excited about the train ride. The peaceful silence and scenery were always very calming to me. 

Pansy found a compartment almost immediately with her house-mates, but she quickly closed the door on me so I couldn’t follow. I didn’t really mind all that much. I made my way to the very back of the train, as every compartment was already occupied except for the second to last compartment. I made my way inside, set my luggage on the top rack, and sat myself and Organo down. I didn’t have many friends, so I often sat in a compartment by myself. It was much better for Oregano anyhow, as she was quite a skittish cat. She didn’t much like anyone else and had a nasty tendency to hiss and scratch at others.

I remembered when I first got her, she was a small, frail-looking kitten off to the side of the walkway in Diagon Alley. I was surprised that I even spotted her, huddled in the corner, seeing as I was so much in awe from seeing that such a world as this could ever exist. I was so incredibly thankful that I could now call the wizarding world–and her–my own. Not to make it sound like I didn’t love living with my parents and living as they did - as muggles - because I did; my social and academic lives hadn’t changed much for the better or worse, either. Just only now, I knew for sure there was magic, and I was no longer bullied for believing it existed. It was truly a relief to know once I got my Hogwarts Letter. 

My father, even as a muggle, considered himself a witch, but only in terms of the Muggle religion of Paganism. In his belief, all practitioners are called witches, no matter if they are female or male. For whatever reason, they believe the term ‘wizard’ to be quite childish. My mother, on the other hand, told me on the day I received my letter that she had grown up in the wizarding world and how she was so thrilled for me. However, she’d never seemed to bother with performing magic herself as I did now; she only kept herself to the novel arts of divination and herbalism like my father. 

Many people in our small muggle suburb thought us to be mad, insane even, so not many parents would allow their children to come anywhere near my family, or me, for that matter. They would almost rather have risked getting hit by a car on the street than walk on the sidewalk on our front garden. The town thought us to be foul, devil-worshipping monsters. One family in particular, though, was quite extraordinarily nasty towards us. They lived six houses up the road from us on Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. It was an odd-looking family of four, consisting of a large beefy man with very little neck, a bony and horse-faced woman, a pig-faced boy with many chins, and a small disheveled boy in clothes many sizes too big for him; the boys both about the same age as myself. 

I had never had an actual conversation with any of them, but the fat, pig-faced boy seemed to love to taunt the scrawny boy a lot. A few times, he would push the timid boy into me while at recess and howl with laughter. “HAHAHA! Here’s a perfect girl for you! A freak with another freak!” he’d bellow, turning his squashed and stubby nose up at the boy and me. A few encounters like this happened. I didn’t let it bother me much; I did, however, feel really bad for the boy. _ I wonder where he is now.  _ I let out a lonesome sigh and read my head on the glass of the window, staring out as the trees rushed by. 

My head shot up as I heard the compartment door slide wide open, breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked to see who it may have been. My face must’ve been wrinkled with confusion for the tall blond who stood there scoffed. “Tch, what are  _ you _ looking at?” the boy spat, his pointed nose wrinkled with disgust. 

“ _ You're _ the one that walked in on me,” I spoke up, furrowing my brows.

“Don’t - How dare you speak to me like that!” he snarled, his cold grey eyes burning with immense disapproval. “Filthy creature,” he huffed, eyeing my cat, before slamming the compartment door behind him as he left. 

I glanced at Oregano; she was in a very defensive position, continuously hissing at the door even though the pale boy was long gone. I got up to sit next to her and calm her down. I’d seen the boy around numerous times, we shared many classes, and he always made his presence known. I didn’t necessarily like nor dislike him because he had never noticed my existence before; therefore, I was never the target of his vicious games. Just now was the first time I’d ever looked him straight in the face or exchanged words. 

I went to stand up to pull down the compartment door blinds as I heard a very sharp but familiar and joy-inducing squealing rolling down the train’s corridor.  _ The sweets trolley!  _ I beamed with excitement and felt for my money in my pocket. With coins in hand, I opened the compartment door turning towards where the noise was coming from. However, a strangely familiar-looking boy caught my gaze, the trolley woman appeared between the two of us. He had messy dark hair and bright green eyes, which emitted as much excitement as mine behind his round glasses. He gave me a shy yet sweet smile. I returned the gesture, feeling my cheeks slightly grow a touch warm. 

“Harry!” A feminine voice came from his compartment. His head turned towards the voice, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he jerked. He turned back towards the Trolley woman, “One galleon worth of Cauldron Cakes, please,” he said, handing the single galleon to the woman. He looked back at me and gave me another smile before returning to his compartment. 

“Do you want anything, dear?” A rough crackly old voice called to me. I reverted my attention back to the old trolley woman. I smiled sheepishly at her, and she let out a soft giggle. “Sweet boy, that Potter is,” she stated with a knowing tone.

I let out an uncomfortable laugh and nodded, “One Pumpkin Pasty, please.” I handed her the needed amount of coins, and she made her way back down the thin corridor.

_ Potter, Harry Potter?  _ I thought to myself, unknowingly smiling at the name. I sat back down and tucked a bit of hair behind my ear before unwrapping the pumpkin pasty. I sat staring at the pastry with small butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. The name was so familiar to me, and then it struck me:  _ The Boy Who Lived!  _ The _ famous Harry Potter!  _ My heart pounded with excitement, having finally - but unofficially - met Harry Potter.

Outside my compartment, I could hear a small group of boys laughing from the room across from where I sat. They weren’t good laughs, either. Seconds later, I saw two boys pass by the window, one short and stout, the other tall and built like a gorilla. I knew those two, they were always accompanied by -- and there he was, the pale boy from earlier. He must’ve felt my eyes on him because his piercing eyes met mine. I felt my face grow a bit redder, but this was from pure discomfort. The corner of the boy’s lips twitched in annoyance, and he kept walking. 

I sternly stood up and harshly closed the compartment’s blinds. I was tired of people looking at me and catching me off guard. I let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the door. I eyed my trunk and figured I might as well get dressed in my uniform, as we were nearly halfway there. 

Rain started to pelt down loudly on the metal of the train and glass of the windows. The fog grew thick and rain droplets quickly streaming down obscuring the view. I was finishing getting ready, putting on my black trainers when, without warning, I fell back into my seat as the Express started to slow down, the screeching of the braking wheels flooded my ears, I covered them tightly. It was unbearable. Finally, we halted to an abrupt stop, the high-pitch noise ceasing. The luggage in the top grate shuffled harshly, almost breaking out of its harness. 

A sharp painful shiver crawled quickly down my spine. My shoulders tensed up backwards. I raised my head to look out the window. The wet surface and streaks of rain started to frost over in haste. I wrapped my arms around myself, gripping at my robes tightly in efforts to stay warm as the temperature drastically declined. I could feel my fingertips and nose becoming numb. My breath became shaky. It was more out of fear than the freezing temperature. I let out a low exhale through my blued lips, and my breath formed a cloud in front of me. I glanced at Organo who was hissing hysterically towards the window. 

The dim yellowed lights of the Express turned on, their buzzing giving me a sense of false warmth but started to flicker. My skin began to crawl with anxiety. I glanced out the window once more. A hazy black phantom appeared right before me outside. I stumbled backward, falling onto my back. About to scream, I was interrupted by the thought and fear of attracting it any further. I covered my mouth in terror, looking at the black figure out my window; it felt as if it were examining me. Its hooded head jerked towards the side then the express lights went out. The compartment was pitch black; I couldn’t even see my hand that was right in front of me. I stumbled to get up to my feet. My joints felt as if they were filled with splintering ice. I reopened my blinds to see if the situation was any different in the corridor, but it was not. Everything was dark, and everyone was curious as to why I heard low murmurs and stumbling in the corridor. 

A few minutes past and the lights flickered back on, and the express started moving once more. Relief should have filled me, but I felt nothing but cold terror deep inside me, and it was awful. 

***


	3. Chapter 3 - An Unlikely Encounter

The Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop one final time at the Hogsmeade Station. The warmth of the late summer evening air quickly melted away the residual feeling of ice inside of me. Students of all years, dressed in their respective House robes, started flooding out of the train onto the quickly crowded platform. The smaller students in plain robes were first years, and all of them stood looking around lost. I smiled to myself, feeling a strong sense of nostalgia.

Suddenly, a very tall and very large burly man made his way onto the platform, waving for all the first years to follow him for their traditional ride across The Black Lake. “Firs’ years this way!” he called, the great man being none other than Hagrid, the school’s gamekeeper. 

I was about to turn around and walk to the carriages when two boys and a girl pushed past me, running towards Hagrid. I stumbled to keep my balance and looked towards the three. “Gryffindors,” I huffed under my breath, seeing their red and gold lined robes. I rolled my eyes and strolled off. Just then I saw Pansy walking in the other direction, so I decided to run to catch up with her. “Pansy!” I called, her head turned to look at me, but turned back to face where she was going.

“What do you want?” she growled in annoyance.

We turned onto a rough mud track where around a hundred stagecoaches waited to be boarded by the students of Hogwarts. One could only assume they were either enchanted or more ridiculously, pulled by invisible horses because nothing stood in the harnesses. 

“Just thought we’d ride together is all,” I said. Pansy rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d need to go to Madam Pomfrey to get them back straight again.

“Yeah, whatever,” she agreed very reluctantly.

She stopped in her tracks rather abruptly and looked around at each of the carriages until she found the one she had wanted. Her thin lips stretched into a wide grin as she grabbed onto my wrist and yanked me along in her jog towards her desired stagecoach. I quickly realized why she had gotten so excited. It was the blond boy who’d barged into my compartment on the express and made it seem as if it were  _ me  _ that did the barging, and the same one I was sure she had runoff to at Diagon Alley, now that I thought of it. As we got to the steps, Pansy let go of my wrist and climbed into the carriage to sit by the blond. I followed her up and heard a scoffing noise come from the other side of her.

“What do you think you’re doing? Who are you?” the blond boy demanded arrogantly.

I looked at him with a blank stare. “I’m sitting. Also, I’m the one you walked in on on the express,” I responded in an equally bothered voice.

“Tch, that was you?” he huffed, eyeing my robes. “I didn’t know you were a Slytherin. Why have I never seen you around before now?” he asked, his expression becoming flat as if I suddenly no longer seemed like a threat to his superiority. He spread his arms by his sides, holding onto the back of the seat as he leaned backwards, resting his right foot on his left knee. 

“I don’t know. Maybe if you came down out of your ivory tower every once in a while, you’d see others outside your posse and toy-victims,” I retorted, crossing my arms and arching my brows. 

“Y/N,” Pansy hissed in a hushed tone, slapping my knee, “shut  _ up _ !” Her eyes were wide. I glanced at Pansy and shrugged her off. 

The blond boy laughed. He placed his hand on Pansy’s shoulder and pushed her back against her seat off-handedly. He then leaned forward towards me with a smirk. “You’ve got some nerve talking to  _ me _ like that,” he said coolly, then reached out his arm for a handshake. “Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Slytherin Prince. And you are?” He smirked once again.

I glanced at his pale bony hand, then at Pansy, who was giving me a death glare, then back at the blond whom I now knew to be Draco Malfoy. I hesitated in taking his hand. “Y/L/N. Just … Y/L/N to you,” I replied suspiciously.

“What? No first name?” 

“No. I’d prefer  _ you _ to not know.”

“You’re on a first-name basis with Pansy,” he pointed out.

Pansy interjected. “I-I misspoke!” she lied. I rolled my eyes.

“What did she call me then, if you really want to know?” I asked quizzically, squinting my eyes at him.

“I don’t know, Percy?” he lazily conjured.

“That’s a boys’ name,” I responded dully. “Do I look like a boy to you?”

“Could have fooled me,” he sneered. I shot him an unpleasant glare and took back my hand harshly.

“Very well, have it your way.” Malfoy reverted back to his previous suave pose. I looked off to my side, keeping my eyes on the passing of trees as I could still feel Pansy’s eyes burning into my skull, which made me very uncomfortable. 

Thankfully, not too long of an awkward silence later, we finally made it to the main doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The sight of the castle was just magical. Professor McGonagall, who was the Transfiguration professor, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmistress, stood at the carved wooden doors waiting for the large flock of students to dismount from their stagecoaches and make it to the entrance. 

“Welcome back, everyone! I’m sure you’re all very anxious to get to the welcoming feast!” she called over the heads of the assembled students. Students of every house cheered and clapped. Professor McGonagall raised both her arms high to calm the crowd, mainly the Gryffindors. She turned on the spot, taking out her wand, and with a simple flick, the grand doors to Hogwarts opened wide.

Students nearly started stampeding into the great hall to grab choice seats next to their friends. I, however, was not one to run for such an advantage. I didn’t care too much where I sat or with whom. I was probably one of the last twenty or so students to enter the hall. I walked over to the Slytherin table and was about to take a seat at the far end next to a bunch of students I didn’t know until I heard my name being called from halfway down the long table. It was none other than Draco Malfoy himself. I looked at him blankly, then he called again.

“Y/L/N!” He waved me over, standing up from his seat, his back towards the rest of the house tables.

I didn’t know why, but I looked behind me, and, seeing no one of particular interest, back at Malfoy. Pointing at myself, I mouthed  _ Me?,  _ though I knew good and well who he was talking to, I just didn’t really understand why. 

“Yes, you! You blundering idiot!” he yelled towards me, still waving for me to come over, then sat back down as I started walking. 

I scratched the back of my head as I walked halfway down the aisle. I stopped behind where Pansy was sitting and looked at Malfoy, who sat across from her and I. “Yes? Did you need something, Malfoy?” I asked.

Malfoy looked at Pansy and waved her to the side, “Scoot over Pans, let Y/L/N sit there.” Pansy must have given him a very shocked look because he didn’t look much amused a few seconds later. “I wasn’t asking,” he snapped, his wave becoming a bit harsher. Pansy scooted down to her right, staying silent. I looked down at the now empty spot made just for me. “Well, are you going to sit, or are you going to just stand there staring all night?” Malfoy asked.

I glanced up at him and took my seat hesitantly. I sneaked a look at Pansy, but she turned away from me. Malfoy took no interest or notice in this. “So, why am I here?” I was still a bit confused about all that had happened thus far.

“Watch this,” he whispered, taking a look at everyone sitting around him. He then turned in his seat and leaned outward into the aisle facing the Gryffindor table. “Psst! Pottah,” he called in a hushed tone. He got no reply, so he tried again, “Pottah!” he called out louder. The boy he was trying to get the attention of finally turned around, it was Harry Potter, who I’d stumbled across on the express earlier that day. 

Harry looked quite annoyed to find that it was Malfoy calling him. “What do  _ you _ want, Malfoy?” Harry groaned.

“Pottah, is it true you  _ fainted _ ?” Malfoy asked, a goon of his to his right imitating the fall of a faint. “I mean, you actually  _ fainted _ ?” He laughed, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

Harry was now visibly angry. Biting his tongue to not say something in retaliation. Harry looked past Malfoy; his angry green eyes fell right onto me. Worry immediately filled my body, seeing the anger in Harry’s face be quickly replaced by disappointment. 

“Shove off, Malfoy!” spat the red-head sitting by Harry, forcefully turning him back around. 

My eyes fell to my hands, clenched in my lap as Malfoy and his cronies turned around and howled with laughter. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and looked back up at Harry, whose back was now turned, then at Malfoy, who had a very smug look on his face.

“Potter fainted?” I asked.

Malfoy’s eyes fell on me, his laughter ceased, but the smile on his face as large as ever. “You haven’t heard?” he started as he leaned forward slightly. “According to Longbottom, Potter fainted when all the lights went out on the express. He says it was because of a Dementor.” He straightened back up. “Ha! Pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he laughed, taking a glance over his shoulder at Harry. 

I didn’t quite know what to do with this information, nor with myself, at that moment. I was too preoccupied with the look Harry had given me. It made my chest ache a strange kind of way that I couldn’t quite explain even if I tried. Suddenly, Professor McGonagall opened the grand doors to the great hall. Everyone fell silent as they watched her in anticipation. She walked down the middle aisle followed by a hoard of first years.

The Sorting Ceremony was always a treat to watch, with most of the new first years getting sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, which seemed to be the norm. After every first-year found their seat in their new respective Houses, Professor Dumbledore took to the podium for his tedious annual start-of-term announcements. Professor Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was a very respected man. He was very old with several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. 

“Welcome!” said Dumbledore. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast.” Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “First, I would like to greet two new professors to our ranks this year. I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Dumbledore informed, turning towards the new professor to give him a round of applause. “Good luck, professor.” The Great Hall echoed the Headmaster’s applause, however, not much was given from the Slytherin table as a large number of us had hoped that Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House and resident Potions Master, would have been granted the position. 

As the lukewarm welcoming applause for Professor Lupin died down, Dumbledore went on with his speech. “Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid.” Again, Dumbledore paused to turn and give applause to the new professor. The applause now was of an even greater magnitude than the previous round, because the Gryffindors gave Hagrid a standing ovation. They on average had a better relationship with the large man. 

Suddenly, the Headmaster’s face became hard, “Finally, on a more disquieting note at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the dementors of Azkaban until such a time as Sirius Black is captured. The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds.” His tone was very serious... “Now whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities - a word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They'll not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving,” he warned, eyeing every table of students to ensure he had their attention. “But you know,” he smiled, his tone becoming warm, “happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” He then waved his hand over some nearby unlit candles and as his hand fell from them, small, flickering flames leapt from their wicks. “Well, I think that’s everything of importance! Let the feast begin!” the headmaster declared, raising his arms. 

The golden plates and goblets before us filled suddenly with food and drink. Everyone started helping themselves to whatever they could fit onto their plates and started to dig in. It was delicious as always. Before I knew it, the welcoming feast was over and everyone had gotten up to disband into their house common rooms. 

The bustling of the students elbowing each other to make their ways through the doors was definitely something I had not missed. Each of the four houses split off into different directions. My fellow Slytherins and I turned towards the left and down the stone stairwell. We descended many flights of stairs down into the dungeons of the castle, the air becoming damp and cold as droplets of condensation dripped from the walls where the cold and hot air from the ground floor met. 

Because of the damp nature of the lower chambers of the castle, the corridors tended to be quite slippery, this especially meant the cobblestone flooring. Without fail, every year unassuming first years, out of their excitement to see their new home, would slip and fall on their arse - or more embarrassingly - their face. Already, only halfway down, two poor first years had met the fate they were destined to have as a new Slytherin. Many upperclassmen, including myself, found this very enjoyable to witness as many of us had had this same fate bestowed upon us our first time or so down the wet corridors. 

Some more slips and falls later, we finally reached the entrance of the Slytherin common room. “What’s this? Why are we stopping?” called out a male first year.

“This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room,” answered this year’s newly appointed Slytherin Prefect.

“What do you  _ mean  _ this is the entrance? There’s nothing here,” chimed in another first year, this one now female. 

“We’ve met a dead end!” another male first-year finished off.

“Move out my way!” called a familiar haughty voice. “Let me bloody pass!” It was clear who it belonged to as I saw a glisten of platinum blond hair break free from the crowd and make their way to the front to the entrance. Of course, it was none other than Draco Malfoy. “This is my favourite part,” he said coolly, eyeing the crowd with a smug smirk. He turned around to face the wall, which was presumably a dead-end, called out “Pure-Blood!”, and without notice, a large segment of the stones making up the wall shifted back and shuffled to the side, revealing the Slytherin common room. Malfoy turned around, enjoying the sight of the starstruck first years. “There is your password,” he informed them and stepped off to the side to rejoin his goons. 

The stunned first years shook themselves back to life and ran into the common room, the two prefects following after them to show them to the dorms they’d be spending the next seven years in. Malfoy, Pansy, and two boys stood atop a small raised ledge up against the wall outside the entrance, watching as the rest filed inside. They were chatting and having a good laugh when Pansy went to step down to enter the common room herself, only for Malfoy to put an arm in front of her to keep her in place. She gave him a confused look and he tilted his head towards me. Pansy let out an exasperated sigh. She, Malfoy, and his goons all had their eyes glued on me, each for their own reasons. 

I was trying to ignore the four of them, as I grew very uncomfortable at eight eyes burning into me. I took a quick glance at them, and anxiety flooded my body. Malfoy’s two goons peered at me like predators ready to strike at Malfoy’s command, Pansy’s seeping gaze was more intense than her usual annoyance at me, and Malfoy’s cold pale eyes had almost a glint of wonder in them. Malfoy took notice of my peek in their direction and hopped off his ledge with a smirk on his face. His goons followed suit, their heavy weights making a slightly intimidating  _ thud _ as they stepped down, but Pansy stayed where she was, not breaking her gaze, and crossed her arms. The two large boys, one short and round, the other tall and beefy, approached me with a malicious smile as they each cracked their knuckles. 

My heart dropped seeing this. _ Am I to be a victim to Draco Malfoy’s cruel games? _ I froze in my spot, still standing in the corridor only metres away from the entrance that was now slowly scraping shut.  _ Perfect. Now there’s no one to lay witness to my beating and screams.  _ I thought to myself as I took a step backwards away from the two approaching me. 

“Crabbe! Goyle!” Malfoy called out. The two boys stopped and turned to look back at their leader. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doing?” he barked in an annoyed tone. I glanced at Malfoy and took a sharp breath. 

“We’re going to rough her up, aren’t we,” the taller boy said.

“No! You daft wankers! She’s a Slytherin, not one of those Gryffindor prats,” Malfoy huffed, pushing past Crabbe and Goyle. He stopped to stand only a foot from me. As he looked down at me, his pale blond bangs fell, his cold gaze making me nervous. I felt as if I was growing smaller by the second. We stood like this for a short moment, until his pale eyes squinted as his thin-lipped scowl turned into a smirk. “Not so smart-mouthed now, are you?” he asked, letting out a half-laugh.

“Of course not,” I could hear Pansy call out in a matter-of-fact tone. The light tap of her shoes hit the wet cobblestone as she hopped from the ledge she had still been standing on and made her way in between me and Malfoy. I looked at her with my brows furrowed. Malfoy took a step back to give Pansy room. “She doesn’t have  _ half _ the wit she  _ thinks _ she does,” she insulted, smirking, looking quite proud of herself. 

Without much thought, I pushed Pansy away from me, “Lay off!” I huffed in anger.

Pansy grunted as she stumbled backwards. “Why you filthy little creature!” she shouted, pulling her wand out and holding it to my throat. I glared at Pansy, filled with anger.

The three boys cooed in laughter. “Girls, Girls,” Malfoy interjected, placing a hand on Pansy’s outstretched wand to make her lower it. We both looked at the blond. “We don’t need to be expelled on the first day back, do we Pans?” he said, looking at her. 

Pansy huffed violently and jammed her wand back into her robe. “Pure-blood!” she shouted angrily at the common room entrance and stormed through the opening. 

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle who were just standing there absent-mindedly and waved a hand at them, “Leave us,” he demanded, and the two boys scurried off like common servants. The entrance to the common room closed again, and Malfoy lowered his hand and looked at me. 

I looked at him angrily and gave him a push just as I did Pansy. “What is wrong with you?” I grunted.

Malfoy laughed as he took a step or two back. “Now, now, calm down. No harm was done, now was there?” 

“No harm?” I repeated in a high voice. “What are you playing at, Malfoy?” I demanded, glared up at him.

“Just seeing how well you can hold your own, is all,” he answered. “Seeing how fun you’ll be,” he added, with a smirk. 

“I don’t want to be one of your toys, Malfoy!” I grunted.

“Oh no, of course not. Let me assure you, that is not my intention,” he claimed and outstretched his arm towards the entrance, not taking his eyes off mine. “Pure-blood,” he called out in a clear voice and the entrance once again opened. “After you.”

I looked at the door, then back at Malfoy. I gave him a confused look and he tilted his head towards the opening, “I’m not going to open it again for you,” he said, and with that, I made my way towards the entrance and inside the common room.

By the time I finally made it inside, the majority of the Slytherins were already in their dorms, ready to retire for the night. Except, of course, Pansy who’d stayed waiting for who I could only assume to be Malfoy. He came in after me and the door shut behind us. Pansy looked up from the couch where she sat and rolled her eyes at me. I ignored her and looked behind me. 

“Well, good night, Malfoy,” I said in a small unsure voice as I started for my dorm room. “Pansy,” I said in passing, knowing she had stuck her tongue out at me by the noise she had made. 

I could hear the two speaking but couldn’t make out the words as I hurried down the stairs. All I cared about at this moment was to get in my bed and go to sleep. When I entered my room, Oregano laid there at the foot of my bed. Seeing her, I smiled, all my worries faded away.

***


	4. Chapter Four: Tea Leaves and Troubled Thoughts

The next morning I woke up a bit earlier than any of the other girls in my room, and most definitely much earlier than I had intended. I assumed it was out of excitement for the new term. I rolled over in my bed and sat up, twisting in my spot to see the others still asleep, even Oregano. I put on my slippers and walked towards my trunk of things at the foot of the bed. 

I opened it slowly so as to not make too much noise, pulled out my uniform, and made for the girls’ bathroom to shower and get ready for the day ahead. Not too long after, I was patting at my soaked hair with a towel, having finished with my shower. I exited the bathrooms, fully dressed except for my robes, and walked back to my room to grab  _ Death Omens: What To Do When You Know The Worst Is Coming,  _ the extra book I had bought from Flourish and Blotts just for a bit of leisure reading. I skipped my way up the steps to the common room with my robe and book in arms, but as I reached the top, I froze. 

Malfoy was already awake and dressed, and sat at the chess table playing a bit of wizard’s chess by himself. He must have heard the tapping of my shoes coming up the steps, because he looked up in my direction. I seriously thought about turning around and just going back to my dorm to read, and I was starting to too, my left foot turned to the side to make a run for it, when the blond’s chilling voice startled me. 

“Y/L/N.” He had noticed me. “I’m surprised anyone else is awake,” he remarked, resting his chin on his palm. 

I stopped my foot from turning any further and glanced around at him, “Well, that makes two of us,” I responded in a small voice tinged with disappointment. “I thought I was the only one,” I added.

“Seems as if we were both wrong. Care to join me for a bit of chess?” he offered, gesturing towards the chair across from him. “It’s quite dull playing by myself. It’s much better to win against an actual person rather than an enchanted table,” he smirked.

I softly shook my head, “I’m not much for chess. Besides, I came down to read,” I informed him.

Malfoy’s face was overtaken by disappointment at my answer, his thin pointed nose wrinkling up. “Very well,” he said dismissively and sat forward in his seat as he went back to thinking up his next move against the enchanted table. 

I slowly made my way to one of the black leather couches. It looked green, but only because the floating lanterns in the dungeon were a glowing green. The couch was placed not too far from the chess table that Malfoy occupied. I took my seat stiffly and opened  _ Death Omens  _ to the first page. I tried hard to read but something was off. It was as if I somehow could hear the absence of Malfoy’s strategizing. I took a quick glance at the chess table, but he was nowhere to be seen. I sat up from my relaxed position and looked around, wondering where he could have gone. 

“Looking for me, are you?” asked a male voice in a soft whisper near my ear. I nearly jumped out of my skin and turned around in my seat to find myself face-to-face with a grinning Malfoy.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” I huffed defensively, looking away from him as I was very aggravated.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What?” I looked at him then away again, “No, of course not. Why on earth would I be looking for you?” 

From his position behind the couch, Malfoy hopped over and sat beside me. “I saw you looking,” he said, eyeing my book. 

“Just because I happened to be looking in that direction, doesn't mean--” I was interrupted by Malfoy pulling the book out of my hands.

“What’s this?” he asked, examining the book. “ _ Death Omens? _ Isn’t it a bit too early to be reading textbooks?” He was now flipping through the pages.

“No! And it’s not a textbook for class, I bought it for a bit of side reading!” I huffed again and tried to grab the book, but Malfoy was holding it out of my reach.

“Side reading?” he said in a judgmental tone. “You sound a lot like that stupid Granger girl,” he groaned, plopping the book back on my lap.

“Stupid? I highly doubt she’s stupid if she’s reading outside of her classes. But I can’t say the same for yourself,” I said taking a jab at the blond.

Malfoy gave me a sideways look. “There’s that smart-mouthed brat again... and I'll have you know, my grades are  _ more  _ than satisfactory. Second in our class,” he said defensively and took to his feet. 

Breakfast in the Great Hall was always quiet compared to the later meals in the day, probably because everyone was still taking their time to wake up. I yawned and stretched my arms over my head to wring out the sleepiness that had started to crawl back into my eyes.  _ Maybe I should have made myself sleep for a bit longer. Definitely would have beat being with Malfoy.  _

I heard a great bellow of laughter come from the middle of the table, and when I glanced over I could see Malfoy, Pansy, and a few others all standing up on the benches, each recreating an over-dramatized faint whilst the others caught them. They were obviously making fun of Harry Potter, who had just walked into the Great Hall accompanied by a fiery redhead boy and a girl with bushy brown hair. It was very good of them to ignore the taunting Slytherin lot; I supposed it was a common occurrence which they’d just learned to drown out. 

I shook my head in disapproval and opened  _ Death Omens.  _ The book was very quick to get to the meat of the information, for the first chapter was all on the deadliest of omens - the great dog which was shown on the cover of the book. After finishing chapter one, the Slytherin prefect came around handing out our course schedules for this new term. I unfolded mine in great excitement, seeing that I’d gotten most, if not all of the classes that I’d requested last year. 

Soon after, it was finally time for my first class of the term, Divination. I had already grabbed my books from my dorm after I had left the Great Hall and now I found myself at the centre of the castle, in hopes that I could maybe navigate my way to class better from there. 

“Well, come on you two! Hurry up! As Ron said, Divination is up in the North Tower!” called out a girl as she walked out of the Great Hall with two boys following her. 

I took a few steps towards them and saw Harry was one of the three. Without much thought, I made my way towards them to ask if I could join them on the way up. “Potter!” I called out to get his attention.

The three stopped and turned to look at me. The brown-haired girl gave me a nasty look in particular. “Look, if you’re here to bully Harry any more, just don’t bother and go away!” 

“Yeah! We’re tired of you stupid Slytherins thinking you’re all so funny!” the ginger chimed in.

At first, I was very confused, but then it struck me, “Oh, no, I’m not here to harass-”

“Then what are you here for?” the brunette spat.

“Divination directions?” I said in a sort of questioning tone, surprised at their immediate hostility. But, I supposed, I couldn’t blame them much.

“Well-” the girl began, but Harry interrupted her. 

“‘Mione, it’s fine, I’m sure she’s telling the truth,” he said, defending me. “Come on, we’re headed that way too,” Harry said, waving me along, his two friends looking very uncertain at the turn of events.

The journey through the castle to the North Tower was a long one. Even if one spent a whole seven years here, I felt like it’d be impossible to know the whole castle and navigate through the best of routes. I never even had been in this part of the school, let alone the North Tower. 

“There’s -- got -- to be -- a -- shortcut,” the redhead panted as we climbed our seventh long staircase and arrived onto the landing. There was nothing but a large painting hanging on the stone wall. 

The redhead and the frizzy-haired girl began arguing over which direction we should take next, while Harry just stood staring up at the empty painting. I supposed the main subject of the piece was out and about visiting other paintings as the works of art in the castle tended to do. I was proven correct a moment later, as a stout man in knight’s armour emerged from one side of the frame. The strange character spotted us and started yelling about how we were villains and how he was going to slay us for the noble cause - whatever that noble cause was, I didn’t know. The little man stopped and examined us more closely.

“Well now, isn’t this a strange little army you have here. A Slytherin and a bunch of Gryffindors?” he pointed out. 

“Trust me, it wasn’t our idea,” the ginger whispered in annoyance, nudging the girl beside him. I glanced at him but chose not to say anything.

“We’re looking for the way to Divination, in the North Tower,” said Harry. “You don’t happen to know the way, do you?” 

The little knight jumped in excitement, “A quest!” he hurrahed, grabbing his sword, which was much too long for him, “Come follow me, good sirs and gentle ladies!” He ran off.

Quickly, the four of us ran after the little knight, listening for the clattering of his armour whenever we lost sight of him. Not too long after, we stopped at a dead end. “Farewell! If you ever have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!” cried the little man, as he ran off back the way he came.

“Yeah, we’ll call you,” muttered the redhead as the knight was no longer in sight, “if we ever need someone mental.” 

I shook my head. _ Not a very pleasant pair, these friends of Harry Potter _ . 

The redhead groaned as he pointed up at the ceiling, where I now noticed there was a trapdoor. “You don’t think that’s the classroom up there, do you?”

Harry moved directly under the trapdoor and squinted his eyes in a desperate attempt to read the gold plaque that was nailed to it. “Sybil Trelawney, Divination teacher,” he read aloud. “How’re we supposed to get up there?”

Then, as if the trapdoor could hear him, it suddenly opened. A silvery ladder came rushing down, falling right at Harry’s feet. We all looked at each other for a brief second. 

“After you,” the redhead grinned, nudging Harry along. 

I was the last one up the ladder. The classroom was very odd-looking, it was nothing like any of my other classes. Here it felt as if I had just entered an antique tea shoppe. There were no desks, but instead, there were a number of round tables, all small and very low to the ground, draped in a velvety red cloth and surrounded by pouffes of all shapes and colours. The only light in the room came from assorted candles and oil lamps, for all the windows were draped in very thick dark red curtains. I took a seat at the last empty table at the very back corner. My pouffe was stiff but still comfortable enough that I had nothing to complain about. I looked at the crystal ball that sat in the centre of my table and smiled when I saw my upside-down reflection. This was going to be great. This was the class I’d been most excited about since choosing my courses at the end of my second year. 

A voice crept out from the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. “Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”

I leaned forward in my chair in an attempt to spot the speaker, who I assumed must be our professor. Then a small woman moved into the firelight emitting from her rickety-looking fireplace. She was very thin and had a head full of untamed curly hair that seemed to be trying to escape the confines of her cloth headband. She rather reminded me of Harry’s brunette friend –well, if she were to ever grow up to be a loony-looking cat lady with glasses so large it magnified her eyes tenfold, that was. 

“Welcome to Divination,” said the woman, taking a seat in a large winged armchair near the fireplace. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may have not seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.”

The class stayed silent. It seemed like she had expected more from the length of her pause. She rearranged her shawl and continued, telling us that Divination was no easy class and might be the most difficult of the magical arts to learn. Apparently, only a few possessed the power of the Sight, and for those who weren’t gifted with such talents-–she claimed–books would only get us so far. Some didn’t take kindly to this news. 

“You, boy,” she suddenly blurted out, pointing at a very timid and lost looking boy. “Is your grandmother doing well?”

“I...I think so,” the boy responded hesitantly. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear,” Professor Trelawney said. It was a very odd thing to bring up. The boy looked scared and worried for his grandmother, which probably could have been avoided if the professor had never said anything. 

Professor Trelawney then trailed back onto the topic of divination as if nothing unusual had been said. She began to go over the upcoming syllabus for the class this year. First, reading tea leaves, then after Christmas, palmistry. Professor Trelawney stopped again, “By the way, my dear,” she began, shooting a sudden gaze towards a tanned brunette Gryffindor girl up in the front of the class. “Beware of a red-haired man.” The girl quickly turned around to look at the redheaded friend of Harry’s, who was quite, unfortunately, sitting right behind her, and scooted away from him. Again, the professor got back on topic, continuing on with what we should expect from the class, but that didn’t last very long, as she took yet another turn in her speech and talked instead about upcoming events that would supposedly disrupt lessons, including a nasty bout of the flu, and something rather ominous about someone apparently being lost to us forever. 

This was beginning to get tiresome, and many students were already visibly uncomfortable, clearly regretting the fact they had chosen this class. I, for one, no matter how annoying the tangents were, tried to stay hopeful, for I was very curious about what the difference between Muggle and wizard Divination would be. 

Professor Trelawney now motioned towards the curly-haired blonde Gryffindor who sat nearest to her. The fear she’d instilled in the girl was quite evident, as she sank into the seat as if hoping it would protect her from whatever prediction of doom the professor was about to deliver next. She let out a sigh of relief, as did the entire class for that matter, when all Trelawney needed was for her to get a large teapot off the shelf and bring it to her. However, why we thought that’d be the end of  _ that _ interaction was beyond me. Trelawney was quick to scare the living daylights out of the girl as she handed over the teapot, confirming that “the thing she was most dreading” would indeed come true, even giving the exact date–though, obviously, it was not Professor Trelawney’s intention to scare any of us. 

“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, then come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then give it to your partner for them to interpret. You’ll find the patterns up for interpretation on pages five and six in  _ Unfogging the Future,” _ Professor Trelawney instructed. 

All of the students got up from their seats and obediently headed to the shelf of teacups to get one for themselves. I waited for the traffic to subside before bothering to get up myself. As I stood, the lost-looking boy from earlier dropped his teacup just as Professor Trelawney had foreseen. He stood there, frozen, and looked at me, since everyone else was already seated with their partners. I gave him a curious look as I grabbed a new teacup and handed it to him. The boy shook himself out of his trance and hesitantly took the cup from me. 

“T-thank you,” he stuttered incredibly softly.

I grabbed a cup for myself and turned around to look at all my classmates to find a partner, but everyone was already paired up. I looked to my side and saw the boy still staring at me. “Yes?” I said to him.

“W-we’re the only ones left,” he said in a small nervous voice. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine,” I said simply. I got some tea poured into my cup and walked back to my table, taking my seat. I glanced at the boy as he very slowly made his way over to me. Was he always like this or was it me that was making him act like this? The boy finally sat down, holding onto his cup tightly and staring intently down into the brown liquid that it held. I took a large gulping swig of my tea and set my cup down on the saucer. “So,” I began to get the boy’s attention. His head popped up. “I don’t believe we’ve ever officially met. What’s your name?” I asked, taking a smaller sip of my tea this time.

The boy took a sip himself, but he looked very distraught about it, as though he were forcing himself to drink under threat of death. “N-Neville. Neville Longbottom,” he answered, then took another important sip.

_ Longbottom? The same Longbottom Malfoy spoke of earlier?  _ “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Neville, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” I said with a small smile. 

Neville looked at me strangely, it looked like a good half of his fear that he’d had at the start of our meeting had suddenly vanished. “Y-You too,” he responded, finishing off his tea. I finished mine soon after. We did what we were required to prep our dregs for reading, then traded cups. “Erm, could you go first? I’m having trouble, I need a bit of time,” Neville asked hesitantly, turning my cup around in his hands and squinting at it from various angles.

“Of course!” My eyes followed the outline of the clumped dregs at the bottom of the teacup as I tried to identify the most coherent shape to analyze. Neville’s dregs seemed to form a large blob that had a bit of a jagged top. I tilted my head and skimmed through pages five and six. I cleared my throat and sat up, believing I had my final diagnosis. Neville looked back at me expectantly. “I think this is a crown,” I explained. I pointed at the crown’s meaning in the textbook and read, “You will have great success and honour in your life.” A couple of students sitting near us giggled, and Neville looked very embarrassed. Professor Trelawney took notice of this and came over. 

“Ah, dear children. Are we doing well? What do you see?”

I looked up at her and nodded. “Oh, yes. I just was telling Neville that he is to have great success and honour.”

Professor Trelawney shuffled over to read the dregs herself, “Yes, yes, the crown! That is very much indeed what is here, my dear. Very good, very good,” she praised me, patting my shoulder with a smile. She looked to Neville, “Now, dear child, what do you see?” Many students were now watching our interaction.

Neville scrambled to quickly come up with an answer, his eyes frantically jumping from the dregs to the book. “Er-Erm… They’re kind of…scattered. They...they kind of look like worms? Snakes maybe?” he mumbled half to himself. “Snakes are a…a b-bad omen,” he stuttered, looking up at me. Trelawney waved at him to continue, the whole class’s attention was glued on us now. “Take caution in all your endeavours…” He trailed off.

“And the worms?” asked Professor Trelawney as she bit her lip in anticipation.

“Th-the worms?” Neville looked back into his book. “Beware of secret enemies.” He looked up at me with a very apologetic face. We both looked up at Professor Trelawney, and she verified that his readings were correct.

“Tch. Anyone could have guessed that!” said a bothered voice from somewhere behind Trelawney. 

Everyone’s head turned to look and see who had made this statement. It was the buck-toothed girl who was friends with Harry. I looked at her, very confused. Everyone else’s expressions showed a mix of confusion and amazement. 

“Why do you say that, dear?” asked Trelawney stiffly.

“Snakes and secret enemies? Just look at her! She’s a Slytherin. Of course, it’s snakes, and what Slytherin  _ doesn’t _ have enemies?” she cried, a lack of belief in the art of tasseography very apparent in her tone.

“Bloody hell, Hermione! What’s gotten into you?” the red-headed boy muttered to her. “I mean, yeah, you’re right, but I’d never expected you to actually say it.”

“Now, now, Miss...?” Trelawney started, walking over to their table.

“Granger,” the girl huffed, and crossed her arms, looking away from everyone. 

_ Granger? _ I didn’t know why, but I almost felt betrayed hearing the name.  _ Was she really the one that Malfoy was comparing me to?  _ The thought that just this morning I had actually defended someone who was so hostile towards me without even knowing me made me very frustrated. I knew now why Malfoy must not have liked her very much. She wasn’t very pleasant to be around, especially with her house prejudice–not to say Malfoy was any better, we all knew that he could only dish it, not take it. 

“Well, Miss Granger. That is no way to talk about your fellow classmates,” Trelawney softly reprimanded her. “Continue on with your readings if you haven’t yet finished, children,” she called for the rest of the class to hear. 

“I’m sorry,” Neville said quietly, holding his hands in his lap. 

I looked at him and shook my head lightly and smiled. “No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault that my readings were bad.”

“No, I meant about Hermione,” he corrected me. “She’s usually never like that.” He then looked up at me. “I don’t think you’re all that bad… for a Slytherin, of course. I was scared for my life when you were the only person left to partner up with,” he confessed. “I was scared you’d bully me here on out since you now know who I am. But… you seem nice.”

I gave him a sweet smile -  _ for a Slytherin -  _ it was of course fake.

There was a sudden scream from across the room, and Neville jumped, breaking his second teacup. The scream had come from Professor Trelawney, who was draped over her large armchair, staring into someone’s teacup with horror. 

“My dear,” she gasped, looking at Harry, “you have the Grim.” Everyone, including Harry, looked around at each other in confusion. “The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” she cried.

“It’s an omen - the worst of omens - the omen of  _ death _ ,” I chimed in without thinking. Everyone quickly turned to look at me, Granger and the red-headed boy looking especially bothered by my contribution. They both looked as though I had just personally threatened Harry’s life.  _ Is that what I did? _

“Yes! Yes!” cried Professor Trelawney again. “The omen of death! The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards!” Harry looked quite shaken at this.

Granger jumped to his defence immediately and challenged the professor, speaking out her opinions on how the dregs didn’t quite look like the Grim at all. Trelawney told her that she saw no aura around her, giving her little to no receptivity to the resonances of the future. Granger looked particularly annoyed and insulted. Professor Trelawney must have had enough bad aura for the day because she then quickly dismissed the class a whole thirty minutes early. Nearly everyone was more than happy to leave. I left the classroom in a thoroughly worse mood than I had entered in, quite ready to go to my next class and put first period out of my mind.

***


	5. Chapter 5 - Crimson

Chapter Five: Crimson

I descended the North Tower and headed for my second class of the day: History of Magic with poor Professor Binns. I dreaded this class, but who  _ didn’t _ ? Professor Binns was a dry and slow-spoken individual, possibly even worse than Snape. He was the only ghost to teach at Hogwarts. Some students claim that he merely woke up from his nap one day in the professors’ lounge where he had died and continued on with his day as normal. Nearly every student fell asleep in his class; I, for one, never did. I always had the fear I’d end up like Professor Binns if I even dared to blink for longer than three seconds. 

Today, though it was the first class of the year, was not unlike any other day. I sat in my desk and doodled aimlessly all over my parchment paper. My mind drifted as Professor Binns droned on about the magical endeavours and treaties in Ancient Rome. 

I thought a lot about what happened in Divination, not about Harry, but about myself.  _ Were my dregs really a warning, or rather a pitiful representation of my House like Granger said? _ I sighed. Either way, I wasn’t in a particularly pleasant spot. 

The class quickly came and went as my attention was obviously somewhere else. Students practically sprinted out of the life-draining classroom, making for the Great Hall just in time for lunch. 

I sat at the end of the Slytherin table again for no particular reason aside from wishing to be alone; I wanted to know more about the readings I had gotten. My mind was spinning. I brought out my Divination textbook and looked in the glossary for ‘snake’.

**_Detailed Meaning of the Snake Tea-Leaf Symbol_ **

**_TOP OF CUP:_ ** _ A snake appearing in the top portion of the teacup is an indication that you must stop worrying. Face your problems head-on. The more you worry and do not act, the greater you become drained and weak.  _

**_MIDDLE OF CUP_ ** _ : A snake appearing in the middle of the teacup is a sign that you direly need change in life. The snake is a sign that your unsustainable lifestyle must change if you wish to succeed in your endeavours.  _

**_BOTTOM OF CUP:_ ** _ A snake appearing in the bottom portion of the teacup shows you being a hard worker and a go-getter. You should continue down the path you have started, as it will lead you toward success and away from needless worry.  _

**_SCATTERED_ ** _ : Scattered snakes in your teacup are a sign that you are to face many challenges. Without sorting out these problems, your life may upend completely.  _

Neville’s words buzzed in my head.  _ They’re kind of scattered.  _ Of course, out of all possibilities, the dregs were scattered. If it were whole I’d be able to manage but  _ destroy my life completely? What kind of sick joke is this? _

I didn’t bother checking on worms.  _ My life was to be destroyed. _ I didn’t need the additional worry of my secret foes being my friends or family. I groaned in frustration and pulled out my schedule to see what I had after lunch.

“You take Divination?” said a familiar voice from behind me.

I let out another groan, “Yes, Malfoy? Could you make it quick? I’m not in the mood.”

Malfoy eyed me suspiciously at my response. “Just seeing if we have any classes together,” he explained, snatching my schedule and bringing it side by side with his.

“Excuse you!” I half-shouted, more bothered than angry. “Must you keep sneaking up behind me and taking my stuff?” 

“It’s funny.”

“Funny? It’s not funny! It’s a bother! Didn’t you just hear me? I’m not in the mood!”

He, of course, neglected to listen to me. “Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Defence Against the Dark Arts…” Malfoy read off, giving me back my schedule off-handedly. “That’s all we have. Shame you didn’t choose Arithmancy, we could have had that too. Divination is such flimsy magic, it’s almost comical.” 

“Are you thick?” I huffed, looking to see what my next class was. Great. Care of Magical Creatures  _ with Malfoy _ . Malfoy looked at me with questioning eyes. “Arithmancy is a  _ type  _ of divination, only instead of palm readings and damned tea dregs you read the meanings of numbers.”

“Read the meaning of numbers?” he retorted. “There’s more than just one, two, three?” 

“Yes, there’s more than just one, two, and three,” I mocked.

His groaning became even louder. “I knew I should have chosen Ancient Runes! Stupid Pansy talked me out of it!” he griped. “I’m surprised that you didn’t take Arithmancy, then. You seem to be into that crap, with your  _ Death Omens _ and such,” he said, pointing at my opened books.

“I was considering picking up Arithmancy since I have a free period after Creature Care, but seeing as  _ you’re _ in that class, I just might not.” I rolled my eyes.

He hummed. “You’re probably not smart enough for it anyhow… but, that’s what Pans is taking, too. Aren’t you buddies of some sort?”

“Not… smart enough…?” I gaped, but then forced a half-hearted laugh. “Says the one that didn’t quite know what the class was about in the first place,” I shook my head at him. “… And to answer your question… of some sort…” I folded my schedule and stuffed it into my robe. “What’s with the sudden interest?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“You obviously have some kind of past with her. I'm sure you know how talkative she can be. There must be a good reason why she’s neglected to mention you and I’m determined to find out why,” he smirked. 

Standing up from my seat, I looked him directly in the eyes, “Look, Malfoy. Pansy and I are  _ not _ friends, nor would I ever like to be. If you’re so curious to know what her deal is, why don’t you ask her!” I huffed, collected my things, and left the Great Hall. 

I returned to my dorm to switch out my books for the one I’d need in Care of Magical Creatures. I had wrapped it in rope because it was so bothersome. I didn’t quite know how to manage with a book that was constantly trying to eat me. Slowly, I dragged myself through the castle and out down the hill towards Hagrid’s hut where the class was to be held. My stomach growled loudly and I clenched at my sides; I had completely forgotten to eat. How stupid of me.

“Oi, hello there, miss—err,” I heard a large burly voice call to me. 

I looked up. It was Hagrid, “Y/N Y/L/N,” I responded. 

“Well, miss Y/L/N, yer sure early, aren’tcha.”

I nodded.

“Well,” he trailed on, looking a bit uneasy, “if yeh wanna sit down over yonder, yeh can. That’ll be where class is at for today’s lesson. I’m mighty nervous,” He rambled a bit gingerly, pointing at a clearing near the rim of the Forbidden Forest enclosed by a paddock. 

I smiled at Hagrid, “Thank you. You’ll do brilliant Professor Hagrid, no need to worry,” I affirmed, trying to lift his spirits. 

“Pro-professor?” He sputtered and stared at me, “By Merlin’s beard! I thought I’d never — ahem, well, thank you Miss Y/L/N, but please, jus’ Hagrid,” he stumbled over his words becoming flustered.

I chuckled at him and took a seat on the stone fencing that formed the paddock. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was so glad this class was to be outdoors. Constantly shut inside such cold and tight walls was making it hard to breathe. I took a deep breath and smiled.

_ This is nice. _

After basking in some much needed time to myself, I overheard a hoard of chatter coming down the hill. I stood and turned to look towards the large group of students listening to Hagrid. Soon they made their way toward the paddock. 

“Everyone gather ‘round the fence here!” Hagrid called to the group of students.

I looked at the descending crowd. Tagging along far in the back, I saw Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. Malfoy, for whatever reason, appeared as if he was searching for someone; he kept turning around and peering back towards the castle. 

As the four reached the bottom of the hill, Malfoy shifted the large satchel on his shoulder in discomfort, swatting away Pansy’s hands. His rolling eyes landed on me. He smirked and walked his way towards me. 

My textbook clenched to my chest, I took a sharp breath, bracing myself to be hurled back into the shitshow that was today. I let out a narrow stream of air from my lips to keep myself collected. I spun back around and faced Hagrid. 

“Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books—” instructed Hagrid.

“And  _ how  _ are we supposed to do that?” said the cold, drawling voice of Malfoy coming up behind me.

“Yeh’ve got ter  _ stroke _ ’em,” said Hagrid as though it was the obvious thing to do, “Down their spine, now.”

The class brushed down the spine of the book, its furry cover grossed me out quite a bit, a feeling I was certain I was not alone in. However, one student seemed to get attacked by his book as I overheard a panicked yelp from behind the group of students. 

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” sneered Malfoy, “We should’ve guessed.”

“I thought they were funny,” Hagrid said to the Granger girl. He looked anxious.

I jabbed Malfoy in the side with my elbow to make him shut up. He scowled and straightened his vest. “Shut up, will you, Malfoy,” I whispered to him. He, of course, ignored me.

“Oh, tremendously funny!” mocked Malfoy. “Really witty, giving us books that try to rip our hands off!”

“Righ’ then,” stated Hagrid. The anxiousness he was having before was whelming up inside of him again. “So — so yeh’ve got yer books, an’ — an’ — now yeh need the magical creatures. Yeah. So, I’ll go an’ get ‘em. Hang on…” He said more to himself rather than the class. He strode off into the Forbidden Forest to fetch today’s subject of interest. 

“God, this place is going to the dogs,” said Malfoy loudly. “Wait till I tell my father that they have this oaf teaching classes—”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry spat out. 

Malfoy smirked maliciously, taking off his satchel, and dropped it in my hands. He and his goons whistled like owls, their ‘oohs’ meant to mock Harry. Malfoy swaggered his way up to Harry and sized him up.

“Careful, Potter,” Malfoy began.

“Or what?” retorted Harry.

But before Malfoy could reply, he glanced up behind Harry, stumbling backwards and pointed towards the treetops.

_ What was this git getting at? _

Malfoy’s face had terror etched all over, “D-dementor! Dementor!” he cried.

Harry and many others quickly looked behind them, but there was nothing there. Malfoy howled with laughter, his gang following suit. They threw on their hoods and taunted Harry as they pretended to be dementors themselves. 

Harry looked like he had had enough. He approached Malfoy, but Granger stopped him and gave Malfoy a dirty look, which was completely warranted. But, of course, Granger gave me the same look soon after. I knitted my brows at her.

I turned towards Malfoy and hit him on the side of the arm with his heavy satchel, “What is wrong with you?” I huffed, looking at him in disapproval. Malfoy just laughed and took back his satchel, placing it on top of the stone fence. 

Hagrid soon returned, and with him was the most bizarre creature I’ve ever seen. Whatever he had with him had the body, hind legs, and tail of a horse, but the front legs, wings, and head of what seemed to be a giant eagle. The talons on their feet looked to be roughly a foot long. 

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at the creature behind him, “beau’iful, aren’ they?” 

I supposed I could see what Hagrid meant. Horses and eagles both laid claim to being some of the most majestic creatures in the muggle world, so I suppose, this… hippogriff, would only receive the same status. 

Everyone seemed very curious about the creature. Well, everyone besides Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, of course. They were huddled together just a foot or so away from me, scheming up their next little attack on some Gryffindor, I’m sure. 

I turned to them and growled in a whisper, “Malfoy!” 

Nothing. 

“Malfoy!” He turned to look at me. “Pay attention, will you!” I said, keeping my voice low. Malfoy looked as if he were about to say something when my stomach let out a loud growl. I clasped one hand to my stomach and the other to my mouth in embarrassment, hoping it wasn’t too loud. Malfoy gave me a smirk and took a step towards me.

“Hungry, Y/L/N?” he laughed lowly.

“What of it?” I growled.

Malfoy turned and dug in his satchel. A bigger pit grew in my stomach.  _ What on earth is he about to do? _ He turned back around holding two bright lime green granny smith apples and handed them to me. “Don’t act like you haven’t eaten. I was there when you stormed off before lunch was even served, you barmy dim-wit.”

I looked at the apples suspiciously, then back at Malfoy.

Malfoy groaned and took a large bite out of one of the apples, “They aren’t cursed if that’s what you were thinking. Now take the damn apple,” he demanded.

I hesitantly took the apple from Malfoy’s pale hand. I inspected it and glanced back at Malfoy. He had taken another bite, widening his eyes at me. He shook his head in a sort of way to tell me again, _ it’s not a poisoned apple _ . 

“Any volunteers to meet Buckbeak?” I overheard our chipper professor call out, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. His words were rather drowned out.

I glanced back at the apple, and my stomach grumbled again. I took a bite and was surprised at how good it was. Normally I hated apples, but this… I glanced at Malfoy again and I suppose my face had lightened up a fair amount because Malfoy had given me a knowing grin. I looked away quickly, feeling a bit taken-aback shocked by his actions, and Malfoy went back to chatting with his friends. I was brought back to the reality that I was still in the middle of a class when a bunch of people backed up into me. 

“Brilliant, Harry!” roared Hagrid, “Now, c’mon up then.”

Harry turned around and saw no one stood directly behind him. Hesitantly, he walked up to Hagrid and the hippogriff, as was expected of him. I leaned up towards another Slytherin who was paying attention unlike myself and asked them what was just said. 

The tall brown-skinned boy looked down over his shoulder at me. “In short, Hippogriffs are very proud creatures, and you should never insult one,” the boy answered with a shrug.

“Thank you,” I said, climbing up on top of the boulder beside me to get a better view of what was happening in the front. I looked back at the boy who watched me, he seemed very entertained. “Y/N Y/L/N,” I introduced myself, “I don’t think we’ve officially met. Zabini, right?” 

“Yes. Blaise Zabini. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around from all the way up here,” he smirked, seeming proud of his own joke.

I rolled my eyes, “You’re not all that tall yourself,” I jabbed, though it was an obvious lie. He took offence to this, which made me giggle at the expression upon his face. I then looked back towards what was happening with Harry and the hippogriff. It looked like to me he was — saddling it? 

_ How much did I miss? Damn Malfoy.  _

I groaned to myself, taking a harsh bite from my apple. 

Hagrid slapped the hindquarters of the hippogriff and he started trotting; Harry held on for dear life. I watched as the silvery hippogriff approached. I wondered what it must feel like; his silky feathers and the trotting. I could only imagine what it must be like to fly. Swiftly, the creature’s wings stretched into a wide span, and he pushed himself off the ground into flight. Everyone ducked to not get hit by the creature’s long talons as he swept over the crowd. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t fully acknowledge that the winged beast was heading right for me until I heard two deep, yet panicked, voices shout out towards me.

“Y/L/N!”

Startled out of my trance, I peered at the steel talons. My eyes were wide. I could feel my throat clench. In immediate horror, I shrieked and quickly slid off the boulder. Hitting the ground with my feet, I stumbled backwards into four arms, clasping onto my robes tightly. I groaned, sitting myself up, then turned in my spot from side to side to see who I landed on. 

_ Zabini and Malfoy?  _

My eyes widened, and I stumbled up to my feet and dusted off my robes. 

“Well, about bloody time you got your fat arse off me,” groaned Malfoy, trying to play it off like he wasn’t the one that came running over right underneath me. 

Zabini glanced at Malfoy and rolled his dark eyes. He got up and dusted himself off, “Are you okay, Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy aggressively got up and glared at Zabini. 

I eyed the two boys curiously and then looked up at Zabini. “Oh… yeah… I’m fine. I had a nice cushion,” I smirked. “But, I should ask  _ you _ that. Are you okay? I mean — I fell on top of you.”

Zabini grinned, “Don’t worry, you’re light, I hardly noticed you were there.”

I chuckled softly at Zabini’s words.

In the distance, through the thick of pine, the class could hear a distorted cheer. A couple of students turned their heads, even more began to buzz. The professor stayed silent, but he was not short of any glee; his high shoulders gave off the appearance that he was rather proud. He swayed back and forth on his heels in anticipation of Harry’s return.

“Light?” scoffed the touchy blond. “What are you saying? She’s as heavy as a great old troll!”

I scoffed loudly at the audacity of Malfoy, “… And I suppose you speak from experience then,  _ don’t you, Malfoy _ ? I would like to hear the story behind _ a great old troll  _ atop your prissy self _ ,  _ as you put it. Because you’re  _ so brave _ and  _ noble _ , right?” I mused aloud, bringing a dust of pink to appear on Malfoy’s cheeks as Zabini disguised his chuckles into coughs. 

Malfoy cleared his throat, ready to retort when the sound of large, flapping wings distracted them. Harry was back. Everyone ran over to Harry, who had jumped off the hippogriff and walked his way towards the group. He had an enormous grin on his face; I supposed he had a good time. 

Malfoy, his nerves still in a twist for whatever reason, saw the praise Harry was getting and scoffed. He pushed students out of his way and swaggered over towards the hippogriff. Zabini and I slowly followed behind to see what he could possibly be up to. 

“I bet you’re not dangerous at all, are you?” Malfoy huffed at the hippogriff. 

“Malfoy, no!” Hagrid, Zabini, and I all called out in unison.

The class turned from Harry to see what was happening. 

“You big ugly brute!” Malfoy insulted as he neared the Hippogriff.

Then, in a flash of steel talons, Malfoy let out a piercing scream. I found myself running over to Malfoy as the irate creature charged up on its hind legs to strike down on Malfoy again. I quickly slid on the grass down beside Malfoy and brought my wand up in the air in a defensive position. 

“PROTEGO!” I shouted, hovering over Malfoy’s scrunched up body as the hippogriff struck down in significant force but staggered backwards when his talons bounced off the invisible shield.

Hagrid wrestled the large agitated creature back into a harness. Zabini ran over to Malfoy and I. Malfoy’s goons, only just now realising what had happened, were suddenly by his side - who knows where their heads had been the entire time. 

Malfoy was curled up in the grass, clenching at his blood-stained robes. “I’m dying!” Malfoy yelled as everyone else started to panic. Zabini held Malfoy down and I pulled up his sticky blood-soaked sleeve. “Get your hands off me!” Malfoy yelped in pain. “It’s killed meh! It’s killed meh!” he yelled out.

“Oh, can it,” I hushed him, examining the massive gashes in Malfoy’s arm. My face went pale. It was bad.  _ Very _ bad. I glanced up at Zabini with a worried-ridden face.

“Yer not dyin’!” said Hagrid, who had gone white.

I faced upwards towards Hagrid; he saw the worry in my face. “Hagrid…” I began in a low voice, “He needs to go to the hospital immediately! If he keeps bleeding at this rate, he  _ could _ die,” I shouted, though I didn’t mean to. I was scared. 

Hagrid froze. The entire class murmured. 

“Hagrid!” I yelled, meaning to this time.

Hagrid hurried over, being shaken out of his shock. He bent down and picked up the bleeding blond who fell limp in the half-giant’s arms. Blood splattered all over the grass. The whimpering of pain was unbearable. “Class is dismissed!” shouted Hagrid, “Get on, nothin’ to see ‘ere!” he shooed the students.

Pansy ran over crying, “They should fire him right away!”

I shot daggers at Pansy, “Shut up, will you! You’re not helping!”

“It’s Malfoy’s fault!” yelled several Gryffindors.

I glared at the Gryffindors. They immediately seemed to get the message and hushed themselves.

“Y/L/N, Zabini, follow me to the hospital wing, will yeh!” Asked Hagrid. We nodded. I quickly grabbed mine, Zabini’s and Malfoy’s belongings and followed Hagrid through the large crowd of nosey students and through the gates.

“I’m coming, too!” demanded Pansy, as she ran after us.

I immediately turned around and stopped Pansy. “No. You’re of no help!” I shouted at her. “Stay here, cry, and let people who actually know what they’re doing handle this!”

Pansy stiffened up. She looked like she was going to say something, but couldn’t. Instead, she huffed and stormed off back into the crowd of students. The rest of the Slytherins followed her. 

I let out an angry puff of air and turned on my heels, running up the hill to catch up with Zabini and Hagrid. I finally caught up to them. The hallway was silent and empty; classes were still in session. “He’ll be okay,” I muttered. 

Zabini glanced down at me, “I know he will,” he said, placing a hand on my left shoulder. 

I looked at his hand, then up at his dark brown eyes, “Huh? Oh, no, I was telling myself that.”

Zabini eyed me as I looked down at my bloody hands. He took his belongings then patted my back softly, “You know, that was quite something you did back there.” I looked up at him. “I don’t think anyone else would have done what you did. Not even a Gryffindor would have, and you know how reckless they are.” 

I shrugged, “I don’t know what came over me, but I’m glad I did. Who knows if Malfoy would be conscious even if I had done nothing…” I trailed off in thought, thinking what might have occurred if I had just stood idly by like everyone else. “Malfoy might be a bloody annoying git, but I don’t think he should get hurt.”

“Well, you saved him twice in just a matter of five minutes. I believe that’s a record, I don’t think  _ even _ Potter could say the same,” he grinned, trying to make me feel better.

“I suppose not,” I grinned back up at him. 

We finally reached the doors to the infirmary. Blaise and I both hurried ahead of Hagrid, who was riddled with silence, and we pushed the heavy doors open. Madam Pomfrey shot up from her desk and looked at the half-giant in concern, and she ran over. 

“My! Rubeus! What on earth happened?” Madame Pomfrey asked hurriedly and ushered Hagrid to put the limp boy on a cot.

Hagrid stumbled over his words awfully. 

“Madame Pomfrey,” I took over and got her attention. “We were in Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, and Malfoy failed to listen to instruction. He thought it’d be a grand idea to approach the hippogriff by insulting it,” I explained. Madam Pomfrey shot Hagrid a glare at the say of ‘hippogriff,’ and I felt bad for the gentle giant. 

“Well, it’s very good that you brought him up to me right away,” she said, examining Malfoy’s torn body. “It seems he’s very lucky to have you three, or else he might’ve not sur—”

“Y/L/N,” Zabini cut her off. “Y/L/N is the reason, not us,” he stated. “She saved him.”

Madam Pomfrey looked at me, I stiffened with embarrassment. “Is that so?” she quizzed, I began to nod unsurely, but Zabini cut in again.

“Yes, ma’am. She blocked the hippogriff’s second strike with a spell, and if she didn’t examine the wounds herself, I’m sure we would have all thought Malfoy was just playing it up for attention.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, “That’s very impressive Miss Y/L/N, I’m sure Mr Malfoy will be very grateful when he wakes up.”

“Will he be okay?” I asked in a worried tone, finally finding my voice.

She smiled at me gently, “He’ll be very much okay since he’s now here with me. Now, if you three don’t mind. I must tend to his wounds immediately and it won’t be a very pleasant sight, so I’d advise you all to leave.”

Hagrid left immediately, riddled with worry for his job, I’m sure. Zabini put a hand on my shoulder and tugged me backwards, telling me it was time to leave. I set down Malfoy’s belongings on the visitor’s chair and then slowly turned on my heels, following Zabini out of the hospital wing. The doors magically closed behind us, and as we headed down the stairs, we could hear the screams of Malfoy echoing through the door. It was awful. I rushed down the stairs to escape the ear-piercing screams, Zabini followed suit.


	6. Chapter Six - Herbs

My mind was racing. Today was merely the first day back, yet so much had already happened that I couldn’t think straight. It had only been half an hour since Zabini and I left Malfoy in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey. I still couldn’t shake the ringing in my ears that Malfoy’s screams had left…

I rested my forehead in the palm of my hand as I slouched over my book in the library. I had a free period and I desperately needed something to take my mind off of classes and  _ Death Omens. _

_ No more negativity. _

I slammed my book shut and heaved myself out of my spot. I brushed my fingers along the spines of books in a random aisle of the library. Hardcover, softcover, excellent-condition, worn, the shelves didn’t discriminate. I, however, was on a seemingly endless search for a perfect book. I knew if I decided on a novel that it needed to have a nice plot or good resources if not. The book needed to be light, but not so light that it had no wisdom to give. I paced throughout the library, opening countless books, only to find that they didn’t fit my sub-conscience requirements. Perhaps the perfect book was just hiding somewhere and I couldn’t find it. 

Having been fed up with such ill-luck, I snatched a random, dark red book that had been lousily placed back on the shelf by the previous reader. I gingerly rubbed my hand upon the cover, feeling all the weathered imperfections that made the book look abused and neglected. Its cover was soft and worn to the point I could feel a slight shift in its placement as my fingers grazed back and forth again. 

I shifted my grip on the book so my hands held on the spine and lip alike. I glanced down at the cover, marvelling over its tattered beauty. There were slight snags in the dirt-imbued fabric, and a ring of dark brown at the bottom right-hand corner where I can only assume the book fell victim to being a coffee coaster. I smiled softly to myself as the pad of my right-thumb traced over the lining of the mug-ring. The title was embossed with gold plating; its shine was a stark difference from the rest of the book’s aged condition. ‘ _ The Master Book of Herbalism’. _

_ Perfect! _

If it’s worn and overused state was any indication of the quality of the book, I had found something quite promising. I began to move back to my table again, the book clenched to my chest. Eager to begin reading, I sat down at the first chair just at the corner of the long dark oak table.

I flipped through a few pages of my text and from my peripheral I noticed three sets of legs had stopped abruptly. Deep-red inlays were stitched inside their robes: Gryffindors. I tried to ignore them and proceeded on with my desperate attempt to read. This proved difficult since the three started to murmur. I gathered they were two boys and a girl; they were quite loud. The girl and one of the boys seemed particularly unhappy, but the second boy sounded almost apologetic. 

I had an inkling of who those three were. 

I tightly gripped onto my book and tried to hide my face with the hand I was still resting on. My knuckles cramped at how tight I clenched my fist around my book. I was trying to clear my head, yet those three disrupted that tremendously. With purpose, I searched for a random spell in the book I had. The pages occasionally tugged against my robe’s sleeve, making a heart-dropping tearing sound, but no damage was actually done. 

I peeked to see if the trio had left since silence had fallen once again. Only two feet remained. They, then, walked away, too. I closed my eyes to reclaim some sense of peace, but the scraping sound of heavy wood acting against wooden flooring startled me. I groaned and felt a person sit across from me; they weren’t very discrete in their arrival either. They hopped forward in their chair to tuck under the table and drew many eyes, including the librarian, Madam Pince, who shushed them loudly. 

I continued to flip rigorously through my book, searching for the first type of spell I thought of. I hoped that if I ignored whoever it was for a good while, they’d catch the memo that I wanted to be left alone. They; however, did not. They sat silently, and it was nerve-wracking; it felt as if they were staring at me, waiting - begging - to be acknowledged. I let out a groan and glanced up from my reading. I was greeted by the soft gaze of none other than Harry Potter. His bright green eyes looked at me almost as if in wonder. 

My body didn’t know whether to be flustered or annoyed; My cheeks grew warm, but my brows knitted together. 

“Protection Spells?” The dark-haired boy broke the silence, glancing down at my book.

I noticed where my hands had led me, and indeed, I have been flipping through the protection spell chapter. “May I help you?” I asked him, my voice was a bit cold, which I immediately regretted.

“I’m Harry Potter,” he introduced himself, reaching out his hand.

“I know who you are.”

Harry slowly took his hand back and stifled an awkward laugh. “Of course,” there was a slight pause. “It was impressive what you did back there,” he stated.

I hummed in return, flipping back through the book still. 

“Are you searching up something for Malfoy?” He asked, eyeing my book again. His voice gave off a noticeable hatred for the blond, but there was something more — a tinge of jealousy?

“No,” I said sternly, flipping the next page over harsher than intended. “Seeking something for myself.”

Harry hummed, discomfort filled the air. I glanced to my left, and I saw Harry’s two friends sitting in the next table over, whispering to each other quite aggressively. I made eye contact with the Granger girl, but I immediately looked away. 

“Why are you sitting here and not with your friends?” I asked. “I’ve noticed they’re not too fond of me, so why are you here?”

Harry peered at the two, then back at me. “Forget them,” he said simply. “As I mentioned, I think it’s really impressive what you did back there… with the Hippogriff. I’d never imagine a Slytherin doing something that’d put their own neck on the line. I wouldn’t have done it myself… especially for—,” he trailed.

I felt the same stabbing pain in my chest just as I did back in Divination. I faced Harry, a trace of resentment in my eyes, and I gave my book a firm shut. 

“You wouldn’t have done it yourself? Especially for  _ Malfoy _ ?” I practically shouted. “Is  _ that _ what you’re suggesting?”

Madam Pince shushed from afar. I narrowed my eyes at Potter, lowering my voice. “So, you would have just let him die? And just because I’m a  _ Slytherin, _ you assume I’m incapable of performing good deeds?” 

Potter stared at me in shock. “Well, no… I didn’t mean—”

I roughly stood up from my seat, brimming with irritation, and glared down at him. “Good day to you, Mr Potter.” I huffed and walked off, leaving the book behind. 

As I fast-paced my way down the opened corridors of the ground-floor, the late summer wind blew past me. Everything was frustrating me beyond understanding.

_ You’re actually kinda nice for a Slytherin. _

_ I wouldn’t have done it myself. _

_ I’d never imagine a Slytherin doing something that’d put their own neck on the line. _

_ Especially for Malfoy.  _

What in the bloody hell was wrong with the people in this cursed castle? It had been an entire day and yet I was still on edge with all the words rushing through my mind. 

It was lunchtime and Malfoy was nowhere to be seen on the Slytherin table. I sat myself down at the end and grabbed a few things to put on my plate. 

Pansy was still wailing over Malfoy. There was no point in her looking like a shrivelled up pug all day and all night. She acted as if he had died a tragic death… well, I suppose he almost had. Pansy exploited that to her advantage, convincing some professors that she was in too much emotional distress to do any of her assignments. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, just seemed more lost than usual. Man, if Malfoy had indeed gone missing or died, what would these three do with themselves? They were utterly pathetic. 

I felt a tall, dark figure sit beside me as the wooden bench bowed at the person’s weight. 

“How are you holding up?” the figure asked in a sincere yet serious tone.

I glimpsed over my shoulder; it was Blaise Zabini. 

“Are you doing okay?” He glanced at the tear-stained Pansy, then back to me. 

I nodded, noticing his gesture towards Pansy, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look like it. You’ve been hollowed-faced since the incident.” 

I looked at him questionably and gently touched my cheeks. “You’ve been watching me? You creep.”

“No. I’m just observant,” he replied dully, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

I hummed in a sarcastic response. “Pay no mind to Pansy, she’s just playing it up. She didn’t even see what happened or even how awful it actually was,” I grumbled, noticing Zabini was looking back at Pansy.

His dark brown eyes switched back to me. His eyes narrowed and it appeared as if he was struggling to examine me for something.

“What?” I huffed, growing a bit uneasy. I hugged myself as if it’d make me invisible.

“Are you done already? You barely touched your food.”

“I had a snack earlier,” I lied. “I’m going down to the dungeons to get my textbook,” I said. I grabbed a green apple from the golden ornate fruit bowl and stuffed it into my robe pocket. 

“So, what class do you have after lunch?” he said as he eyed my hand as I let the apple drop into place.

“Herbology. Why?”

“Wanna walk down to the greenhouses together?”

I sighed, “If you’re going that way, then I don’t see why not.”

He grinned.

The conversation ended, but Zabini stayed where he sat and helped himself to a plate to eat. I had only eaten half the food I gave myself, and there wasn’t a lot to begin with. My appetite was shot and I recognised that it upset me, but maybe it went a lot deeper than I thought. Zabini seemed to notice.

I turned on my heel to exit The Great Hall, but Potter stood in front of me. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Since the exit was behind him, I walked to him. “What do you want, Potter?”

He turned to walk after me. “I just wanted to say that I was sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean for it to come off—”

I abruptly stopped. We were now outside in the corridor. I swung to look at Potter in the eyes. “You what? Didn’t mean to sound like a bloody bigot?” I spun back around and started walking again, but a bit faster.

Potter jogged after me. “Yeah! I didn’t mean to sound like a ‘bloody bigot’, it wasn’t intentional,” he claimed. “I just honestly thought that you were brilliant yesterday. I think that only a skilled witch or wizard could pull something off like that in an instant.”

“It was merely a simple blocking spell. No need to fuss over it, I’m no  _ Harry Potter _ ,” I said, my tone becoming less apprehensive as my pace slowed.

Potter chuckled to himself, his steps falling in line with mine. “No, of course not. I suspect you’re much better than he is. Harry Potter’s too much of a ‘bloody bigot’ to do what you did,” he grinned, having a jab at himself.

I noticed a small smile creep onto my lips. “If you say so, Potter.”

“So, where are you headed to so early?” he asked, sounding like he was trying to keep the conversation alive.

“Slytherin Common Room to get my Herbology book,” I simply stated.

“You have Herbology next?” he chirped.

I nodded.

“If you like, you could walk down with me, Hermione, and Ron,” he offered. I cut him off with a piercing glare.

“No offense, but I don’t enjoy being around them. They lump me in with the likes of Malfoy when they don’t even know me!” I retorted.

“But, aren’t you friends with Malfoy and Parkinson?” he asked rather confusedly.

“No. No, I am not friends with Pansy, nor am I friends with Malfoy. I simply share a dorm with Pansy, and I’ve only just officially met Malfoy yesterday. We are  _ not _ friends,” I ranted on. “Besides, I already told Zabini I’d walk down with him.”

“Isn’t Zabini also a part of Malfoy’s goon squad?”

I stopped just before descending down the stairs to the dungeons and looked at Potter sternly. “And what if he is, Potter? Why does that matter if I, or him, or anyone, for that matter, are in Malfoy’s foolish little ‘goon squad’,” I lashed out, my voice echoing down the steps. 

“Because Malfoy isn’t a good person, nor are his goons. You’re not like that,” he responded quietly. 

I let out a soft and low sigh. “Look, I’m tired. I just want to get my book and get on with my day. So, if you’ll excuse me,” I said, struggling to calm my fragile temper. I turned and started jogging down the stairs. Silence fell behind me as Potter never responded. 

I quickly made my way down to the dungeons, ran past Snape’s empty potions classroom, and took a couple turns before I reached the secret entrance to the Slytherin common room. I uttered the password, though I hated it, and made my way inside as the opening was just big enough for me to squeeze through.

With my books, I hurried my way back up to the ground-floor; it was nearing the end of lunch and I still needed to meet Zabini at the gates. The corridors quickly filled with the sound of bustling students, gossiping and laughing, on their way to their next class. Finally, after some running, I made it to the front gates and Zabini stood leaning against the stone megalith with his books in one hand and his other stroking the top of his head. 

“Zabini!” I called out, running up to him then stopping to catch a breather. I bent over, placing my free hand on my knee and took deep breaths.

“Tired already, Y/L/N?” he laughed.

“Oh — shut — up,” I heaved, standing back up straight. 

“Come, let’s go.” Zabini pushed himself off the wall and started down the hill. 

“Hey!” I called to him, jogging to catch up with him. “Are you tryna make me die from an asthma attack?” I huffed, punching him in the arm.

He chuckled, rubbing his arm slightly, though it didn’t hurt. “No, why? Do you have asthma?” he quizzed.

“No, but right now it sure feels like it,” I panted, falling in line with his footsteps. 

Minutes later, we made it down to the east side of the hill. Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws alike, stood waiting outside the greenhouses waiting for Professor Sprout to appear and start class. The doors magically swung open and all the students filed in, each taking a spot at the table.

The large spacious green-tinted glass building was covered in plants of all sizes, types, and sentients. There were magically enchanted watering cans that floated over the most demanding of plants, raining down on them to their delight. In newer potted plants, enchanted hand-held shovels and rakes prepped pots for mulching. The humming of small pixie-like birds dashed over my head and a few others as we entered to welcome us in, and they swiftly darted off to pollinate some more flowers.

“Good Afternoon, students,” Professor Sprout greeted with a pleasant smile. She was a rather short and plump older woman, her face was pudgy with blotchy red cheeks, and her salt-and-pepper hair was ever so short and coily under her pointed witches’ hat. “Today, we will be studying a new plant, Valerian,” she started. “Who here kn—”

Instantly my hand shot up, but mine wasn’t the only one. A few spots ahead of me on the other side of the table stood Granger. Her light brown eyes grew dark as she peered at me and waved her hand to gain the attention of Professor Sprout.

“Miss Y/L/N, would you, please?” the professor picked.

A shameful smirk grew on my face, and I put my hand down. “There is Valerian the plant and Valerian root and sprigs. The former is used as a common cooking ingredient for chocolates whereas the latter is applied for potion-making,” I began, eyeing Granger, who looked very bothered. “It also was known in medieval times as ‘All Heal’. It was recognised for its sedative and antispasmodic properties, and so was utilised as a sleep and nerve remedy making it a fundamental element to  _ Draught of Living Death, Sleeping Draught _ , a weaker variant of  _ Living Death _ , and also,  _ Draught of Peace _ .”

“Why, yes! That’s completely right! Wonderfully said Miss Y/L/N!” beamed Professor Sprout. “Five points to Slytherin!” 

Zabini, who stood behind me, placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned over to my ear. “Good job, I never would have guessed such a bitter-looking individual as yourself had such a soft spot for plants,” he whispered, ending in a small snicker.

I rolled my eyes and glanced at him. “I’m not bitter,” I tried to say, but he just wiggled his index finger at me and put it to his closed lips to tell me to be quiet. I furrowed my brows at him in annoyance. 

“Now class, in front of each and every one of you, there’s a small bundle of Valerian.” Professor Sprout held up her very own bundle of the plant. “What I would like you to do for this class is to create a mixture of herbs - of your liking - that nicely compliments the provided plant. You must work alone. I am only here today to observe and to see what you can recall from the past two years. My greenhouses are at your disposal; however, do not take more than you need. You have until the end of class.” With the end of her speech, she clapped her hands twice and everyone went instantly to work.

_ This should be easy. Valerian has sleeping and soothing properties, so I just need to find other herbs that will complement it and not counteract it… _

I started to gently pull apart the bundle of Valerian. Tearing off the blossoms, I put them in a discard pile, and broke the sprigs, purposefully leaving them large and uneven sizes. I carefully thought about what further herbs I should add; I was going for a drinkable remedy, such as tea. I circled in my spot and scanned over all the possible plants I could choose from, then I located it — _Mint for clarity of mind_. I stepped over to the potted mint, careful not to hit my head on the watering can that hovered above it, and tore off two leaves and laid them in the same pile as the Valerian sprigs.

_ And Lavender to alleviate grief and guilt… _

I left to go outside where a few other students were already scavenging for items to use. Just a few plant boxes away, I found the Lavenders and climbed my way through the students to get them. I plucked off about ten of the flower’s tiny petals and headed back inside. I placed the light purple petals down into the pile of the other herbs and I collected them in a mortar bowl and tossed them gently with my fingertips, mindful to not crush any of the petals. 

After tossing, I poured the herbs into a small sheer white baggie and pulled the drawstring on either side to close it. 

“Professor,” I started, as I walked over to Professor Sprout. Her smiling face turned to me.

“Finished already, dear?” she asked, taking the small bag from me to study it. “Spell bag or herbal remedy?” 

“Remedy, Professor,” I answered promptly.

“Very well done, Miss Y/L/N. Very simple, yet practical. Would you like me to dry these for you?”

“If you could, please,” I smiled as Professor Sprout rushed off with my undried tea bag to pin it against the north window. I turned to return to my place to conjure up a list of needed ingredients for a little personal project of mine. Zabini stood there, still staring at his untouched Valerian. 

“Now, how in the bloody hell did you manage to come up with something in only ten minutes?” he demanded, throwing me a sideways glance. 

I looked up from my rolled out parchment, grabbing my quill. “Herbology is quite simple, that’s why,” I said as if it was obvious.

His eyes grew wide, though his eyebrows were knitted and raised. His head took a quick double-take from me to his workplace then back to me. “Excuse me?  _ Simple?  _ I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”

I gave him a dull expression. “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

“Help me?” he pleaded, putting his palms together.

“Are you… pouting?” I asked, raising a single brow.

“If it works,” he said, keeping a smirk from developing.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. What exactly do you need? It better be quick, because I’m tryna work on something,” I gave in.

A huge grin grew across Zabini’s face. “Wicked! Just give me a couple herbs and what the end result would be used for.”

“So, do your entire assignment for you?” I signed.

“Well, yeah. How else would you help?” 

“You know what?” I started, shifting myself in my spot, and opening my herbology textbook, “How ‘bout you just use that handy book of yours, and I not help you. I prefer that idea more.”

Zabini’s head dropped in defeat. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” I answered simply, letting the P pop. I flipped through the pages going to the appendix of the book and ran my index finger down the list of herbs mentioned. 

Zabini let out a heavy huff and opened his own textbook and started browsing himself, thoroughly saturated in his loss.

With only five minutes left in class, most students were done with the assignment and were tidying up their workspaces, unless of course if their name rhymes with Useless Tortellini. I was finishing up writing down the list of herbs I required and what each was used for.

Zabini, on the other hand, was beating his fist against the table in frustration; he had only found a single herb. Although two herbs could theoretically work, they would never do as well as a mixture of three or more. I snickered at the sight of how baffled he was. 

“Shut up Y/L/N!” he sneered, causing multiple people to glance up at him from their packed bags. He shot a death glare at everyone. “Oh, shove off!”

I plucked some cypress cuttings out of a jar on the shelf and tossed it on the table in front of Zabini. “Here, you giant baby. With these three ingredients, you should be able to make a nice incense jar.”

Zabini gave me a keen glimmer, completely speechless. 

I rolled my eyes once more. “Take it or fail, see if I care.”

And with that, he hastily jammed the herbs into a small empty glass jar and handed it to Professor Sprout. She eyed it skeptically, but accepted it, anyway.

“Now, before you go, children. I want you to write a two-foot-long scroll on what you made here today and what its use is. Due by next class. Dismissed!” 

Students groaned aloud and quickly flooded out the greenhouse doors and dashed up the hill. Zabini started packing his bag. 

“Thank you,” he said in a soft voice, not daring to face me.

I smiled and patted him on the back. “Make sure you read the texts, we have them for a reason,” I encouraged and walked off towards Professor Sprout, the greenhouse now practically empty.

“Professor,” I started, getting her attention once more. “I was wondering if I could collect some of your herbs for personal use? I seemed to have forgotten to replenish my supply while I was at Diagon Alley before term,” I asked, hoping greatly she’d approve.

“Of course! Just this one time, Miss Y/L/N. I cannot in good conscience deny one of my top students the means to improve her studies!” she glowed, patting me on the arm gently. I mentally high-fived myself, unfolding the piece of parchment I was writing on just not too long ago, and read it over. Then I turned on my heel to grab the herbs listed, making sure I put them in a small bag of their own so they wouldn’t mix. 

I was about to leave the greenhouse when Professor Sprout walked over to me, smiling. “Oh, before I forget, dear. There’s an apothecary down in Hogsmeade, she’s a dear friend. If you ever find yourself in her shoppe, do be sure to tell her I sent you,” she said brightly. I smiled back, nodding, and left for the last ingredient, a very significant and troublesome one to obtain.

_ Bark of a Whomping Willow. _

I knew this was the sole ingredient I’d be rejected. Professor Sprout rarely dared to collect much herself, but I wanted all the herbs I could get my hands on. I casually walked out the greenhouse so as to not raise the professor’s awareness to my sudden uneasiness. As I got just a few metres from the greenhouse acting as if I were about to climb the hill to the castle, I stopped, looked around to see if anyone was around, then quickly sprinted for the hill where The Whomping Willow lived. 

Upon reaching the hilltop, I stood still, staring at the resting tree. A small red cardinal flew right over me. At first I smiled at its song as he flew, but to the bird’s mistake, he flew right into the Whomping Willow. He combusted into a cluster of feathers. Silence settled upon the bluff again. I stared at the red feathers on the grass and took a gulp. I hoped to not be the next victim to the temperamental tree. 

I took a few soft steps forward, but the Whomping Willow immediately sensed my presence and whipped one of its long and thin branches towards me. My eyes widened, and I quickly jumped backwards, stumbling onto my back. The thin branch’s reach met my cheek, cutting through it swiftly. I winced in pain and felt the long cut; it stung to the touch. My fingertips reddened with a small bit of blood. 

I stood to my feet again and analysed the tree, trying to best figure out how I’d make my way to its trunk. I scanned the base of the tree and I saw it: the knot. Unknowingly to myself, I ran for it. Suddenly, a hard-hitting branch slung me to the side a few meters. I grunted, holding my torso. I rolled over unto my back and saw the tree bending down to flatten me like a bug. 

I instinctively drew out my wand and pointed it up at the diving tree. “IMMOBULUS!” I shrieked. A shot of silver came from my wand striking the Willow and it froze just a few feet from me. I let out a relieved sigh and rolled out the way and jogged toward the knot on the tree.

_ I’ve read that these neutralise the Whomping Willow, forcing it to be docile. _

I pressed on the knot, the charm I had cast shattered and the tree slowly reverted to its normal resting position. It was as if it were breathing as the branches gently swayed in the wind. 

I opened my bag and seized my shrunken athame. It was smaller than its typical length, but for what I needed it for right now, it would do just fine as it was. I stabbed the trunk of the Whomping Willow and tugged at it downwards, slicing into its thick bark. Peeling it off, I placed them within a medium-sized pouch, then packed my bag. I placed my hand over the spot I carved into and closed my eyes.

_ Thank you. _

I was broken from my thoughts when I overheard a group of students walk out onto the courtyard not too far from me. I heard someone scream. Out of curiosity, I rushed to the arched wall and looked out onto the lawn to see a red-headed student rolling around in the plush green grass in front of some others.

“It’s killed meh, it’s killed meh, I say!” they yelled out, mocking what happened to Malfoy just yesterday. Another was acting out Buckbeak, treating it as if the creature was completely innocent. Their friends all held their stomachs from their painful laughter. 

I hopped onto the ledge on the wall with my bag on my shoulder and stepped off onto the lawn. I glared at the group.

“Oi!” I called, making myself known. The group stopped their laughter to look at me. “What’s so funny here?” I demanded with venom in my voice. 

The jokester sat up from his place on the grass and grinned. “Malfoy, of course,” he responded. The second boy leaned down to the other on the ground, reaching his hand out for the other to take it and helped him up. They were identical. 

I eyed the two. “Neither of you were there. I haven’t seen your pale faces in a single class of ours. How do you know it’s even a matter to joke about?” I inspected their appearances. “Pale freckled faces, red hair, and free of all care? You must be the Weasley Twins,” I pointed out.

The two boys grinned widely, hugging each other by the sides. “The two and only!” They saluted. “And we don’t need to be there to know he bloody deserved it and is playing up the whole thing,” they laughed. 

“You’re two dim-witted gits, you know that don’t you! Obviously, seeing as your robes are tainted with that disgusting hue of red, you’re both Gryffindors. Your foul hatred for Malfoy is blinding you,” I exclaimed. Their smiles dropped, and they looked at each other, then shook their heads. My anger subsided seeing this.

“You’re the one that’s blinded,” they said in unison.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re a Slytherin.” They pointed at my robes.

I glanced down at my uniform and peered back up at them. “And? How does that make me the one who’s blind?”

“You Slytherins know nothing but to follow your Slytherin Prince unto the ends of the Earth,” one sneered, the group behind them nodding in agreement.

I was seething with anger once again. “Your stupid prejudice against Slytherins is sickening,” I huffed, turning on my heels and stormed off. 

I made my way to a small enclosed part of the courtyard, which offered some reprieve from all the commotion — outside  _ and _ inside my head. The area was beautiful and calm, precisely what I needed. The section had no roof or complete walls, allowing the sun to shine strongly through the creeping vines and cracked stonework.

I wandered into the middle of the space, set my bag down, and sat cross-legged on the cold stone-flooring. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and straightened my back. My exhale was low and slow, dropping my shoulders in tune. I leaned to the side, and with my eyes still closed, reached into my bag. I grabbed a pouch with a singular herb inside and repeated my slow, thoughtful breathing-pattern.

I set the pouch in front of me. I concentrated all my energy into feeling every inch of my body with my mind. Slowly, I visualised my entire entity from head to toe, reconstructing myself in a form without negative toxicities flowing through me. Echoing the process, I reached for another pouch. I went through six herbs. I felt calmed, nearly numb to all around me, all troubling me, yet still. A slight smile crept onto my lips. I felt at peace. All my worries left me in this sobering moment of meditation. I opened my eyes and looked down at the small pouch in my hands. 

_ Bark of a Whomping Willow? _

I pulled my herbology book out of my bag and opened it up on my lap. I flipped through the pages to discover more about the qualities of the Whomping Willow:

_ Willow Bark comes from Salix offensatio, more commonly known as The Whomping Willow. It has been utilised for centuries as a pain reliever in Herbology and is most commonly used to reduce pain and fever. Willow bark does not present to have negative side effects if used in moderation. Some Herbologists debate on whether or not it is gentler on a patient’s stomach than other herbs. Too much willow bark; however, can cause stomach cramping and bleeding. _

I tapped my page in thought as to why willow bark would be the ingredient I would end on during meditation.

_ Pain? Pain? Pain… _

Then it struck me! I hopped up from my spot and picked up my belongings, swinging my bag onto my back. 

I entered the main corridor and took a turn for the dungeons. I shook my head, wondering if I should drop off my things in my dorm or not. Second-guessing myself, I stopped, turned, took a step, stopped, and turned again. Grunted and turned once more and stormed off in the opposite direction of the common room. 

A way into my walk, I calmed into a normal walking pace, which was better for me in the long run. A few people along the way kept giving me odd looks, not that I could blame them, but it made me a touch insecure. Finally, I made it to my destination. I placed my hands on the rough wood of the large doors and gently pushed them open. I stuck my head into the room and caught the eye of Madam Pomfrey. She hurried over to me. Curiosity was plastered all over her face. 

“Why are you here, Miss Y/L/N? Are you ill?” she inquired in a hushed tone.

“No, I—,” I started, but Madam Pomfrey hushed me. Nodding, I mouthed, “Sorry. I was wondering if I could speak with Malfoy?” still keeping my soft tone.

Madam Pomfrey gave me an odd expression. She turned her crane-like neck to look at the boy, but turned back to me with a look of disapproval. “He’s resting, can you come back later?” 

I glanced down with a bit of disappointment filling me. Then a thought hit me. “I only need to give him a small little thing. I’ll be quick.” I assured her, looking her in the eyes.

“I’ll give it to him, hand it over,” she stated, outstretching her hand.

I shook my head. “You misunderstand, Madam. I have yet to get it ready.”

She let out a small sigh. “Very well, Miss Y/L/N, be quick.” She then moved out the way of the door.

With a quick smile, I nodded and made my way to the resting boy, which I swear I caught him moving. I ignored it and softly walked around to the other side of his cot and sat down in the visitor’s seat. Slipping off my bag, I placed it on my lap and opened it. Out of my peripheral, I saw movement again as I looked down inside my bag to fish for what I was going to give him. I shot my head up to look at Malfoy, but he still laid asleep. I narrowed my eyes at the boy and tested a theory. Sitting very still and silent, I pulled out my wand and flicked it towards the door, softly closing them. I sat and watched the boy. 

Not much as fifteen seconds later, Malfoy slowly opened up a single eye, as if it were a way to be inconspicuous. I dropped my head, eyeing him in disapproval. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re just bloody awful at being sneaky?” I laughed.

Malfoy quickly closed his eye and didn’t respond. 

“You’re dead from the neck up, aren’t you? Don’t act like you’re asleep, you ligger!” I huffed, crossing my arms. 

Malfoy opened his eyes and looked at me extremely annoyed. “I’m no ligger, you’re the cow that came stomping in here waking me up!” he retorted, but not in his usual healthy tone. He sounded terribly tired. He  _ looked _ terribly tired, but not in a sleepy sort of way.

“Whatever, you weren’t asleep to begin with, I saw you shuffling. You’re not as slick as you think you are,” I poked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out a hoarse sigh. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have class?”

“Actually, no. I have a free period right now. I’ve been thinking about filling it with Arithmancy, though. Also, I came to see how you were doing,” I answered, sitting up in my chair to study him a bit. “How  _ are  _ you doing?” My brows knitted, examining his sickly pale green face.

Malfoy placed his uninjured hand at his side and attempted to push himself up into a sitting position. I watched him, debating if I should help. He didn’t get very far, but he was no longer laying flat, and that seemed to be enough for him. 

He glanced at me. “So,” he began, using his free hand to adjust the sling digging into his thin neck. “Decided to take Arithmancy with me?” He asked, his signature smirk struggling to show itself. 

I shook my head at him. “No. Not for you. And you’re ignoring my question.”

Malfoy’s face dropped, if that was even possible in his present state. “I didn’t know you were blind, Y/L/N. I would think it should go without saying,” he sneered, his voice cracking every few words.

My neutral expression became one that could show a bit of worry. “How bad is it?” I asked, moving to sit at the edge of my seat.

Malfoy looked away from me. “Why do you care? I’m sure you’ll just think I’m showing it up,” he growled.

“Malfoy, have you forgotten? I was there. I know how badly you were hurt,” I reminded him.

“Then if you know, why are you asking?”

I sighed. “Because, I would have thought Pomfrey would be able to do more for you. You look… awful,” I stated, my voice going low at the end.

Malfoy stayed silent.

“So please, tell me how bad it is.”

He groaned and waited a few seconds before he spoke. “The cut deeper further than just a flesh wound. It—,” a cough interrupted him, “It lacerated the muscles. She was able to heal it… physically. Pathologically, however, the pain is still there.” His long bony fingers playing with the sling band as he spoke. “Apparently, that bloody chicken is filthy too! Wretched creature’s claws gave me a damned—” he coughed again, “a damned infection!” He dropped his head backwards in exhaustion. 

I stood up and took a step towards the sickly boy. He flinched at my movement.

“What do you think you’re doing, Y/L/N?” he asked.

“Oh, hold still,” I demanded and gently placed the back of my hand on his clammy forehead. Malfoy’s dull grey eyes were staring up at me. “You have a fever,” I stated and turned around to pick up my bag, and rummaged through it.

“Okay? I have a fever. What are you doing? If it’s such a problem, go tell the matron.”

“If she hasn’t done anything for you yet, then she has nothing more she can give. Magically, of course. However…” I trailed, finally grabbing onto the pouch I was looking for. “Ah-ha!” I cheered, holding up the bag.

“‘However’ what?” Malfoy quizzed, looking at me oddly.

“ _ ‘However’ _ I’ve recently come upon a certain ingredient that the professors themselves find to be too troublesome to keep in their stock,” I answered, grinning as I opened the pouch and pulled out a strip of bark from the Whomping Willow. I put my hand out, showing it off with a lot of pride. 

However, Malfoy eyed it as if it weren’t that special. “And, what’s that supposed to be? It doesn’t seem the slightest bit extraordinary,” he groaned.

I rolled my eyes and leaned towards him to whisper, “This,” I shook the piece of husk, “Is the bark of a Whomping Willow!”

Malfoy’s eyes were wide. “Whomping Willow? How in the—”

“It’s a secret!” I cut him off and stood back up straight, with my finger on my lips. “Now, Malfoy, all you need to do is simply chew on it,” I instructed, handing it to him.

“I’m not doing that! Knowing that cursed tree it might stab me in the tongue!”

“It won’t hurt you! Just chew on it. It’ll help, trust me.”

Malfoy eyed the bit of bark and hesitantly took it in his hand. “And how do you know it’ll help?”

“I’m quite knowledgeable in Herbology,” I beamed. “I think it’s exactly what you need. So, go on. Chew it.”

Malfoy stuck it in his mouth reluctantly and chewed on it like a hay strand. “For how long?”

Before I could answer, Madam Pomfrey came rushing over to me and Malfoy. “Miss Y/L/N! You said quick. It’s been ten minutes!” She huffed and turned to see her patient awake. She wasn’t overly thrilled. “Miss—”

“It’s fine,” Malfoy chimed in. “I woke up when she sat down.”

Madam Pomfrey eyed him disapprovingly. “Very well, Mr Malfoy, but—” she stopped, scuttling closer to him and saw the bark. “What is this? Is this… Willow Bark?” she questioned, furrowing her thin grey brows at the boy. “How did you obtain this?”

Malfoy was becoming annoyed and pointed at me with his thumb.

Madam Pomfrey turned to me in an urgent manner. “Miss Y/L/N! How in Godric’s name did you get this?”

I got very tense, but being quick on my feet, I lied. “I brought it from my Auntie’s.” 

Her stern eyes peered through mine. She most definitely saw straight through me. “Very well. Good thinking Miss Y/L/N. Very good.” She turned back to look at Malfoy. “Chew on that until the pain subsides,” she instructed and walked away to her desk. 

I let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

“That was a lie,” Malfoy said bluntly. “Pretty sure she didn’t believe it, but I’m still impressed by how quick your response was.”

I shook my head and sat back down in the visitor’s chair and put my bag in my lap. 

“What are you possibly rummaging for now in that filthy bag of yours? You should really wash that rubbish. How'd you get branches and mud all in it?” Malfoy questioned as he watched me dig in my bag once again. 

I peeked up from my bag, turning my head to the right and pointed to my cut cheek. “Unlike you, I didn’t have a bit of a lie-in today. Had to leg it a bit earlier,” I groaned, returning to my bag. 

Malfoy stayed quiet.

I grabbed a small empty jar out of my bag and placed it on the bedside table, then pulled out a couple herbs and other ingredients.

“What on earth are you doing? This isn’t potions class,” Malfoy groaned.

“Oh, hush up will you. This isn’t for a potion. Besides, I’m terrible at potions,” I grumbled, popping the cork off the small vile. I shredded a couple flowers and broke some sprigs, placing them into the bottle and pushed the cork back in, giving it a shake. “Here,” I said, tying a hemp cord around the neck of the vial and making the strands long enough to wear as a necklace if so desired. “This is also for you. It’s a mixture of chamomile, passionflower, and rose petals. It’ll help with whatever stresses you may encounter when you get back to classes. I’m sure you’ll be behind, so just a precaution.”

Malfoy took the bottle and looked at its contents. “How in the world is this supposed to work?” he questioned its potency.

“With faith and intention, of course. Not everything has to sparkle and fume.”

“It’s a lot cooler,” he grumbled, gnawing down on the bark; I chose to ignore it. I closed my bag and stood up from my seat. 

“Leaving?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes, I have to go talk to Professor Snape about joining Arithmancy,” I answered. I smiled at the ailing boy in his cot and left his side.


	7. Chapter 7 - Failed Potions

It was Thursday now, several days after the incident. I hated Thursdays; they were double Potions. Though, I didn’t hate potions for the reason most people did — most people being the Gryffindors. I had no issue with Professor Snape. When my brews would explode in my face like that Gryffindor Seamus Finnegan, Snape would ignore my sorry mess and go for berating the soot-covered Gryffindor instead. I suppose it was because I was a Slytherin that I got to slide by in my worst subject, rarely ever getting so much as an insult. 

Given the sudden noise of students chattering and walking down the dungeon corridor, I supposed it was most’s switching period. Oh, how I wished I could just walk out of Potions right then and leave for some other subject: Arithmancy maybe. Professor Snape had graciously obliged in allowing me to pick up another class; I was very excited to start come Monday. 

“The first hour of Potions has ended…,” called Professor Snape, breaking the deadly silence that was present in the room. “Drop your quills, and hand over your exams…,” his monotonous slow drawl ordered. “Hopefully… the lot of you remembered your lessons from second year. It’d be most…  _ dissatisfying _ … to see otherwise.” He eyed the group of Gryffindors on one side of the classroom.

I set my white feathered quill onto its stand I had and stared down at my potion’s exam miserably. I wasn’t finished, not even close. I glanced around the room to see that the other students were just as miserable as I was, except one of course — Granger.

“Finally,” she heaved as she stood up from her seat.

“Impatiently waiting to turn in your exam, Miss Granger?” asked Snape, who shot a glance in her direction. “I do hope that big-head of yours hasn’t… misled you.”

The Slytherins, myself, and a surprising number of Gryffindors, snicked at Professor Snape’s comment. Granger didn’t take kindly to this as she huffed and shoved her exam into Snape’s hands, storming back to take her seat. 

“Bloody lunatic, I tell ya. I don’t know how she does it,” someone whispered from the Gryffindor side of the room. 

I stood up with the rest of the students and shamefully turned in my exam packet. After everyone was seated, Professor Snape slapped the stack of papers on his desk and turned around sharply, his robes flying along with him.

“Now!” Snape started, grabbing at his robes to straighten them out. “For the next hour, we will be brewing a potion by the name of Shrinking Solution. Does anyone here know anything about this brew?” He ignored Granger whose hand, of course, shot up before he had even finished his sentence. “No one? What a shame,” he groaned, then he shot me a glance. “Y/L/N.”

I stiffened up in my seat from the sudden mention of my name, as I was originally slouched with my chin in my hand. I glanced around the room and saw all eyes on me. Granger scoffed and crossed her arms. 

“Tell me, what is the Shrinking Solution?” Professor Snape quizzed, as he watched me intensely.

I was incredibly on edge. “Uhm, it shrinks the consumer?” I answered, hoping the name was an obvious clue.

“Very well done. Ten points to Slytherin,” he granted with a half-grin.

I let out a relieving sigh and hid away back into my palm. I’m sure Snape knew it was a simple question that anyone with even half a brain cell could deduce, meaning I, his worst Slytherin student, could easily answer it and win his house some points. 

Suddenly, a loud sound of the door being slung open caught everyone’s attention. Malfoy swaggered through the dungeon door, his right arm still in bandages and sling. He looked healthy again. He also looked just as pompous as ever with a smug look as if he had returned a heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. 

Pansy, of course, hopped out of her seat instantly upon seeing the blond. “How is it, Draco?” she simpered. “Does it hurt much?” She walked him to a seat between me and her.

“Oh, yeah,” said Malfoy, putting on a brave grimace. He winked at Crabbe, Goyle, and me when Pansy had looked away. I rolled my eyes at him. I thought he wasn’t hurt, but then Malfoy pulled some willow bark from his robe and bit it, giving only me a wink this time. Maybe he  _ was _ still in pain.

“Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly. “Now, back as we were before… Mr Malfoy… decided to make us all aware he is alive and well,” he began. “The Shrinking Solution, ... or also called, Shrinking Potion... is a brew that shrinks whoever drinks it, as Miss Y/L/N has told us. A farmer could shrink his entire herd and put them all in just his pocket... if he so desired,” he informed. 

Malfoy glanced at me, seemingly impressed that I had given a right answer. I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. It really wasn’t anything to be proud of; I was more embarrassed than anything.

“You are to find the instructions to today’s brew on page 429 through 431… Do… be sure you all read through it… diligently,” Snape informed. “If you find yourself in need of help… do better. None will be found here.”

Soon, all students were setting up their workstations. Malfoy set up his potions equipment next to Potter and his friend. I raised a brow in curiosity, though I was certain in what the mangy blond was up to. I walked over and set up my stuff next to Malfoy’s. He didn’t seem very excited to see me, as he eyed me as if I were a mutt begging for food. 

“Y/L/N, what are you doing?” Malfoy hissed in a whisper.

“Making sure you don’t  _ say _ or _ do _ anything stupid,” I responded in a normal tone, catching the attention of the two Gryffindor boys who were oblivious to our presence until now.

Malfoy grinned maliciously at me, then turned to face Professor Snape. “Sir,” Malfoy called. “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—”

“Weasley cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” ordered Snape without looking up.

The freckled boy beside Potter went a dark red, matching his hair.

“There’s nothing wrong with your arm,” Weasley hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked.

“Malfoy, I can—” I interjected, but he shushed me. 

“Weasley, you heard the professor; cut up these roots.” Malfoy pushed the cutting board towards the boy.

I watched as Weasley snatched his blade and began to aggressively chop the roots in a horrid, uneven mess.

“Professor...,” groaned Malfoy. “Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.”

Snape approached the table and gazed at Weasley’s handy work. His lips curled just ever so lightly to be mistaken for a grin, but it wasn’t a good thing. 

“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.”

“But, sir—!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I huffed. I swiped the botched roots from the ginger and started to carefully fix them up on my own. “I swear you all are the absolute worst!”

Professor Snape’s grin quickly dropped at my actions and he turned and glided away. The three boys sitting around me all looked at me gobsmacked. I glanced around at all of them and shook my head. 

“Here, Malfoy. Your roots are no longer mutilated,” I huffed, setting them in front of him. “And give me this!” I said, swiping up his shrivelfigs to skin.

Malfoy was smirking at the two boys, though probably not as malicious as he would have if he had gotten Potter and Weasley to do everything for him. 

“Seen your pal Hagrid lately?” he asked them quietly.

“None for your business,” Weasley said jerkily, without looking up from his brew. 

“I’m afraid he won’t be a teacher for too much longer,” said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. “Father’s not thrilled with my injury—”

The two boys, along with myself, shot Malfoy a cold but questioning glare.

“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you an actual injury,” hissed Weasley.

“—he’s complained to the school governors.  _ And  _ to the Ministry of Magic. Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this—” he gave a false sigh, “—who knows if my arm’ll ever be the same again.” 

I hissed in Malfoy’s direction, “What are you doing? You’re just making yourself look a fool.” He glanced at me with a brow raised. “No one’s going to believe you’re actually hurt if you keep this up, so shut up.”

He eyed me with an annoyed look, “What do you care, Y/L/N? I do as I please, and right now, I please to harass the two dim-wit Gryffindors.”

I let out a heavy huff, shaking my head, and returned to my potion. 

“So that’s why you’re putting it on,” accused Potter, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because of his hand shaking in anger. “To try and get Hagrid fired?”

“He’s putting nothing on, Potter!” I shouted at him. I then turned to give Malfoy a dirty look, “He’s just a big-headed jerk, incapable of making himself look good even if the opportunity slapped him across his stupidly pale face!”

The boys were at a loss for words.

For the rest of Potions, we four learnt how to hold our tongues. All was well until, of course, Professor Snape decided he had had enough of the good behaviour his students were giving and that he wanted to terrorise one who wasn’t so lucky to be a Slytherin. This time around, Snape went for Neville Longbottom. Neville was just as bad at potions as me and Seamus Finnegan, if not worse, but the only difference was that Longbottom was absolutely terrified of Snape. 

Everyone perked up from their chairs to watch what was going to happen next. Malfoy nudged me in my side with his unwrapped hand. He was especially enthralled, it seemed. 

“Orange, Longbottom,” growled Snape as he ladled up some of the failed potion up and let it splash back into the cauldron. “Orange,” he repeated, then proceeded to berate the pink and trembling boy who looked as if he were about to cry. 

“Please, sir,” the Granger girl piped up, “please, I could help Neville fix it—”

“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” said Professor Snape coldly. Granger went just as pink as Longbottom. 

I held back a snicker, but Malfoy took notice and grinned at me. I smiled back. Professor Snape went on bullying the boy, something about needing to fix the potion himself and testing the result on his toad. Malfoy and I no longer could hold back our laughter once we saw the petrified boy’s face. 

Snape’s head jerked in our direction, and he glided over. “Mr Malfoy. Miss Y/L/N,” Snape’s lowly drawl called out. I stiffened in my seat, my laughing immediately ceased and looked up at the professor. Malfoy, however, continued his chuckle as he looked at the professor. “Would you care to share what it is that’s so funny?”

Malfoy grinned, “Certainly, sir.” I shot him a look. “Y/L/N was just telling me how grand it would be to see Longbottom’s toad shrivel up into a great ol’ prune the size of the daft boy’s brain.” 

My eyes widened at the lie and I gave Malfoy a quick, and rightfully perplexed, look.  _ Unbelievable.  _ ‘What are you doing?’ I mouthed at the rotten boy.

Snape seemed to find this very amusing news. “Very well, Mr Malfoy. Finish with your brew,” he grinned, then strutted away.

I watched the professor intensely, waiting for him to get away far enough before spinning back towards Malfoy in an irritable fit. “What was that?!” I hissed.

Malfoy spun in his seat with an enormous grin. “Bothered, Y/L/N?”

“Yes, I’m bothered,” I snapped. “I said no such thing and you know it.”

He raised a brow, “Didn’t you though? You laughed at Snape’s threat, same as me.” He said as he read in his potions book. He then gave me a sideways look. “You’re not facing any apprehension for such a thing from the professor, so what does it matter, Y/L/N?”

“What does it matter?” I huffed, gesturing lightly around us, signifying our classmates. “I am to face apprehension from everyone else! I do not wish to be attributed to the likes of you and your friends, Malfoy!”

He looked at me fully. “Then you should have thought of that before you made yourself acquainted with  _ the likes of me, _ Y/L/N.” He turned away and stirred his cauldron three times clockwise. “This sounds much like an issue of your own doing. If you wish to be in cahoots with the likes of Potter and the rest of his blood-traitorous chums, then be my guest. Just know you are dead to the whole House of Slytherin.”

I gaped at the boy’s words, but refused to respond; I kept to my work, ignoring Malfoy. 

The time came for Professor Snape to make his rounds to examine everyone’s brews, but instead, he called everyone over to gather around Longbottom’s station. I stayed put in my spot; my brew was horrendously wrong, and I worked urgently to fix it. 

I could feel the fear emitting from all the Gryffindors that were standing behind me. A few moments like this passed. I wasn’t too bothered by the tense atmosphere though; I found the silence helpful. Suddenly, a burst of applause erupted from behind. I jolted from being startled by the sudden noise and accidentally dropped in much more than a dash of leech juice. I slapped my hands over my mouth in horror. My loud gasp caught the attention of Snape, who walked over to me.

“Is there a problem Miss Y/L/N? Too busy being a flower on the wall to join class instruction?” His eyes dropped down to my brew, “Another failed potion, I see.” The brew was bright orange and bubbled. Everyone shuffled and gathered around my station to see what was happening. I was brick red from embarrassment. Snape took a ladle and put it into the hot liquid, but as he did, it exploded in his face. 

The entire class gasped. Snape threw down the charred ladle onto the table and shot me a look with his soot-covered face. 

“Miss Y/L/N…” he began and glanced to his side where Malfoy sat laughing to himself. “Mr Malfoy, seeing as you find this quite funny and your brewage is perfect as always… I want you to tutor Miss Y/L/N on your free period on Thursdays… starting… today...”

Malfoy instantly stopped laughing. “But sir—!”

“Want me to make it Tuesdays as well, Mr Malfoy?” Snape sneered. “Oh, and Miss Granger,” he turned to look at the curly-haired girl that looked rather shocked to be called upon. “Five points from Gryffindor. If I recall correctly, I told you to not help Longbottom. Class dismissed!”

Malfoy glared at me. “Here. After third-hour then, Y/L/N,” he said sharply as he packed his things and left for lunch in the great hall. 

I was sure I had not been so cross in all my days. I grabbed my own supplies and headed up the dungeon stairs in a huff. If next Thursday didn’t go any better, I was going to down one of Longbottom’s potions myself. Even being shrivelled down to the size of a walnut would be vastly preferable to another lesson like  _ that _ .


	8. Chapter 8 - Bloody Boggart

The new Dark Arts professor, Lupin, wasn’t there when we all arrived to class for our first lesson of the term. Most students had already taken their seats and taken out their quills and parchment. However, being the indecisive person I’ve always been, I stood at the door and eyed the couple of last empty desks available, trying to decide if I wanted to sit by Vincent Crabbe or Seamus Finnegan.

Both boys shared a lot of similarities, in my opinion. Any Gryffindor would find great offense to be compared to a  _ ‘slimy _ ’ Slytherin, and to Crabbe no less. Crabbe was undoubtedly one of the most doltishly, dim-witted, empty blockheads in the entire country alongside his best mate, Gregory Goyle. It was incredible that the daft pair didn’t try eating their wands the moment Ollivander handed it to them.

Seamus Finnegan, on the other hand, was the most Irish sod I’ve ever witnessed stumble about in this castle. He wasn’t entirely gormless, like Crabbe or Goyle, but the amount of times he’d blown up his assignments really made me reconsider.

Finally, I made my decision. I took a step towards the Slytherin, not feeling like getting myself blown half-way to London, when I felt someone’s presence behind me. 

“Good afternoon,” a tired and rough sounding voice greeted the class. I jumped and turned around, clenching onto my bag, and looked to see none other than our Professor Lupin. 

He was nearly as tall as the door and quite grave in the face as it was riddled with scars and exhaustion even though he didn’t look that old. He wore a particularly shabby set of wizard’s robes, which had many spots made-up with lousy patchwork.

Lupin looked down at me, chuckling softly. His stringy light brown hair had slight amounts of grey and it fell into his sleepy light-coloured eyes. He then looked up at the class with a vague smile. He moved past me and walked to the teacher’s desk and placed his tattered briefcase on top. 

“Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today’s a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.”

Curious looks were exchanged between all of us as everyone packed away their things. We had never had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts class before, unless of course, you count last year’s mishap with the Cornish Pixies that barmy old coot, Lockhart, let loose by the cageful. 

“Right then,” said Professor Lupin, as I pulled the chair from under the desk. “No, no. No need for that Miss…?”

“Y/L/N.” 

Lupin smiled again. “No need to sit, Miss Y/L/N. If you’d all follow me.”

Confused, all the students slowly picked themselves up out of their seats. Once we all got to our feet, we were quick to follow Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led us along the empty corridor and around a corner and down a second corridor and stopped right outside the staff lounge room. 

“Inside, please,” said Professor Lupin, opening the door to the room, and stepped aside to allow the students to file in.

The professor’s lounge was a long wood-panelled room with a handful of round tables surrounded by mismatched chairs. In the middle of the room, sat in a low-seating armchair, was a man in all black: Professor Severus Snape, his hair greasy as ever. Uncomfortable groans were heard from some students. Snape, however, was not fazed by the distaste his students had for him. He rather looked — pleased. A daunting grin was on his face as his large hands clasped together and laid in his lap, his eyes slightly glistened. 

Professor Lupin looked unfazed by Snape’s presence, though I supposed that’d only be expected as they were colleagues with mutual respect for one another. As all the students filed in, Lupin went to close the door.

“Leave it open, Lupin,” called Snape, breaking the awkward silence. 

“Do you not care to join us for the lecture today, Professor?” Lupin asked with a small smile that looked a bit forced.

Snape’s face fell flat, his hands separated as they went to grab his black cloak. “No,” he said sharply. His foot that was once laid on his knee, touched the floor and he stood up - his arms wrapped around him. “I’d much rather... not… sit here and lay witness to any… incidents... that may occur.”

His monotonous drawl sent shivers down Longbottom’s spine, who stood in front of me. He looked rather petrified as Snape’s eyes landed on him when his sentence ended. A couple Slytherins chuckled at this, needless to say who. Snape also seemed like he enjoyed the sight of the stiffened boy. 

All of the students shuffled into a corner as we watched our two professors. 

Snape glided towards the door. His hand grasped the door sill, and he dramatically turned in his spot to look back at Professor Lupin. “Oh…” he started, a dark eerie pause followed, definitely done just for dramatic effect. “Do be sure to stay wary of… Longbottom…” he warned, his dark black eyes snapped to the boy who was now green in the face; Longbottom looked like he was soon to be sick to his stomach if he wasn’t already. “I would advise you to not entrust him with anything too… difficult” His eyes glided to the side. “Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions into his ear.”

“Really now?” Lupin quizzed, a scarred brow raised. “I was hoping to have Mr Longbottom help me with the first stage of today’s lesson.” Lupin gently placed his hand on Longbottom’s shoulder, who was conveniently beside him. The nervous boy jumped slightly and gulped as he looked between the two professors. “I’m sure he will perform admirably.”

“The boy is incompetent…. he can hardly brew the most… simple of potions,” Snape’s grin fell as he belittled the Gryffindor.

Professor Lupin smiled, ignoring Snape’s words, “Is there anything else, Snape?” 

Snape narrowed his eyes, “Nothing.” He swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him with a snap.

There was a slight awkward silence that filled the room. Lupin quickly saw an end to it. “Now, then…,” he began, his voice strong. A few students jumped at this, including myself, and we all turned from the door to look at our calm professor. Class hadn’t even begun, and yet he had already managed to gain the respect of many students due to his calm composure with handling the likes of  _ The _ Severus Snape. 

“Since that’s done with let’s get on with the lesson for today.” He beckoned over his students as he walked over to the other end of the long room and stepped next to an ornate, dark oak wardrobe, which kept the professors’ spare robes. A proud grin appeared on his face as he looked amongst his questioning students, and then, with a single knuckle, he gently knocked on the side of the wardrobe.

The wardrobe rattled from side-to-side harshly; it startled many students, and even seemed to catch Professor Lupin a bit off guard. His proud smile quickly vanished as he turned to look at the wobbling coat closet and leaped in front of it to steady it with his grasp. Finally, with a bit of diligence, Lupin successfully calmed it.

A small whimper came from the crowd of students, a bit in front of me, “Wha.. what’s in that bloody thing?”

Lupin swiftly turned around, patting down his cloak, his comforting smile reclaiming his face. “Sorry about that, little bugger is a bit more angry than I expected… But, no need to be alarmed, children, you’re quite alright.” But most of us students deemed it as  _ much  _ a thing to worry about. He turned his head back at the wardrobe and gestured towards it. “Can anyone tell me what’s inside this wardrobe?”

Granger’s hand immediately shot up as it always did, but a boy spoke out of turn, stealing the limelight from the know-it-all girl. “A Boggart, that is,” answered the male from the far right side of the cluster. 

“Yes! Precisely! Very good Mr Thomas, five points to Gryffindor!” cheered the professor.

Granger looked very annoyed that she hadn’t been the one to win those points herself. The professor seemed to take notice of this, as he let out a small chuckle. I for one, had my eyes fixated on the gold plated knob that started to turn ever so slightly. 

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gap underneath your beds, the cupboards under your mother’s kitchen sink—” he then chuckled at a sudden memory he had. “I once came across one that had lodged itself into an old grandfather clock.” He patted the side of the wardrobe again; a few students flinched, but the Boggart did not react. “The Headmaster has already approved this as our lesson today. So! We must ask ourselves, what does a Boggart  _ look _ like?” His eyes instantly fell on Granger, whose arm was already up before he had even finished his question. He made a slight nod towards the bouncy girl, “Miss Granger, correct?”

Her arm fell to her side, and she nodded in return, “Yes sir. No one knows what a Boggart looks like. It’s a shape-shifter. They take the form of whoever is in the same room as it’s worst fear… That’s what makes them so terrifying.” She paused. “What’s worse… is that if angered, sir…” I could hear her voice faltering, as if she were scared. “They can cause a whole army of the strongest men... and women to fall into a horrific fit of hallucinations…”

Professor Lupin chuckled softly, “... and women, yes, of course. Very good Miss Granger, I couldn’t have put it better myself. Another five points to Gryffindor,” he applauded. I could feel the radiance beaming off her from where I stood. I rolled my eyes and scuffled a scoff. Pansy, who stood beside me, heard me and gave me an almost approving grin. I shook my head.

“The Boggart here, sitting in the darkness, hasn’t yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person most on the other side of the door, but when I let him out…” he eyed his students seriously, “he will immediately take the form of what we all fear most.”

“This means,” continued on the professor, ignoring the dreadfully loud sputtering of terror that escaped Longbottom, “we have a great advantage. Harry, have you spotted it?”

Granger was annoyingly yet again on the balls of her feet, bouncing to catch the professor’s attention with her waving hand so she could yet again enlighten us with all her wisdom. Potter looked visibly annoyed at his friend as he tried a great deal to concentrate so he may answer. 

“Professor,” I stepped up out of the group of students and looked at the struggling Potter, “if I may?” 

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I can only assume there are too many of us in this room for the Boggart to assume a single form. We’d confuse it, thus… I could only imagine, we’d make it angry… or rather… angrier than it already seems to be.” I motioned to the jostling of the doorknob; it was more aggressive than before.

“Ah, a keen eye you seem to have. Worry not, I have a simple way to rid us of that issue,” he claimed with a thin grin. “But that is precisely right, five points to Slytherin.” 

The frizzy-headed Granger put her hand down and ceased her bouncing in a huff. She was obviously very disappointed. Her head turned towards Potter and from the expression I saw on his face next, I could only assume she was nagging him. I’d guess for him not answering quickly enough and allowing a  _ Slytherin _ to take their house points. 

I felt a firm pat on my left shoulder. I turned to see my Housemate, Theodore Nott, giving me a large toothy grin and a thumbs-up. “Way to go, Y/N. Good thing the silent ones tend to be the smart ones.” He then nudged Pansy in the side, then gestured to me with a flick of his head. 

Pansy rolled her eyes.

“It is always best to have company when you’re dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused, just as Miss Y/L/N stated. Which should he become, a headless corpus or a flesh-eating slug?”

Professor Lupin stepped forward and took out his wand. He pointed it down towards the hard-wood flooring and walked in a circle. A luminous line followed his path. “Now, what I am doing here is a form of protection magic. The caster draws this rune around the area they wish to keep safe from intruders and those who try to escape alike. This is crafted with intent, no incantations needed.”

A Hufflepuff in the back raised their hand. “What is that supposed to mean, professor?”

“Ah! Good question! I, the caster, have the intent of keeping this Boggart within this circle so it cannot harm any of you. It is also my intent that you can enter and exit this circle at any time…”

“You mean to tell me…. that… you expect us to enter inside that blasted circle with that… that  _ thing _ ?” whimpered Weasley as he traded terrified looks with Longbottom.

“You’re very much safe,” the professor tried to reassure as he finished the protection circle, but too many were already shaken up from the panicked ginger’s words. “Now, to best a Boggart, it’s very simple. Repeat after me, without wands, please.” He waited for the students to regain attention. “Ridikkulus,” he enunciated.

Nearly every student, including myself, repeated after him as we were told; however, the four to my right did not. A scoff could be heard from one of them. The nearly white-headed blond was leaning up against a wooden post near the door, cradling his injured arm in its sling. He looked as if he were about to walk out of the class at any second from immense boredom. 

“Tch.. this class is ridiculous,” he groaned, his eyes moved to the side, landing on me. A corner of his pointed nose pulled upward, his thin lips frowning. He looked as if he’d smelt something bad. “What are you looking at, Y/L/N?” he hissed. 

“Just wondering why nobody has dealt with this giant foul rodent that’s got a lame arm,” I spat. 

Malfoy was not at all pleased with my quick-witted insult. He pushed himself off the wooden beam and turned his body towards me. “What was that, you pestering—”

“Nuh-uh, no. You can’t reuse my insult,” I cut him off, crossing my arms not in the slightest amused.

There was a sudden burst of laughter from everyone in the room, but Malfoy and I ignored it.

Malfoy closed his trap and glared at me. “You know, Y/L/N, keep this up and you’ll have an even harder time making allies,” he jabbed.

My brows knitted together and my nose crinkled as I frowned at his harsh and equally odd comment. “Allies, Malfoy? What is this, some kind of war we’re in? I’d much rather a  _ friend _ than an  _ ally _ , you dramatic lunatic. And it doesn’t seem to me like you have any  _ ‘allies’ _ yourself - well, notable ones anyway. Only a couple daft dimbos as bodyguards and a fangirl that’s just head-over-heels. They’ll be no help to you in whatever fantasy war you’re taking part of.”

“Whatever,” he groaned, as he leaned back against the beam, “let’s see who’s left standing later on then - you or me - and at this rate… the odds are ever leaning in my favour, Y/L/N.”

“I can’t believe you,” I hissed and turned away as I heard everyone laugh again. Curious, I walked closer to the inner circle of students, but they were filed in a line. I had no idea what was going on. I felt so stupid for yet again missing important lecture time just to nag back and forth with Malfoy.

I eyed down the line and spotted a particularly friendly face I wouldn’t mind making “an ally” with. I grinned to myself and snuck up to my classmate. 

“Psst,” I hissed silently to get only their attention, and definitely not the professor’s.

The tall boy turned slightly and looked down at me and smiled, “Hey, wanting the whole run-down on what’s going on again?” He teased with a smirk. “Saw you bickering with Malfoy again - you two really have it out for each other, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, shut it, Zabini!” I hissed, nudging at him. “Mind if I cut in front of you? I assume we’re about to see the damned Boggart?”

Zabini nodded, then a malicious grin took over his face. He bent down a bit to whisper in my ear. “You missed it, apparently Longbottom’s  _ worst fear  _ is Professor Snape,” he chuckled softly then stood back up.

“Really now, is that why everyone laughed just now?” I responded and looked to the front of the class, not really needing the answer. Zabini might have been a nicer person to be around, but he was still a Slytherin. I sighed to myself and focused on Longbottom and the professor.  _ It makes sense that Longbottom would be so afraid of Snape. He treats him so harshly that I can’t much blame him.  _

“I would like all of you to take a moment to think of the thing that frightens you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical...,” instructed Professor Lupin.

The room went quiet. The tension of everyone trying to think about what their worst fears were made the air thick with anxiety. I looked around the room at the different disgruntled faces. 

_ What is it I am most scared of?  _

I didn’t know. Well, sure, maybe drowning or being lost in the Forbidden Forest alone was scary, but those things didn’t seem likely to happen. Then my head raced.

“Everyone ready?” Asked Professor Lupin.

_ Gods, no, I was far from ready. I had still no idea what I would face. _

Just a few people ahead of Zabini and I was Potter. I saw a sudden shudder come out of him. He looked around frantically, I assumed to check if anyone saw, but then his eyes met mine. His green eyes were hidden by the glare on his lenses, but I knew they were filled with worry. I gave a small smile to maybe offer some reassurance. He returned the gesture, though a bit sheepishly, and turned back around. 

“Neville, step forward now, son,” said Professor Lupin. “You’ll need a clear shot — everyone pay attention now.”

Longbottom looked pale and frightened, much like how he always looked. He looked down at the drawn rune on the floorboards, then the wardrobe rattled again. 

Longbottom jumped back, his eyes glued to the shaking glorified box. 

“In the circle, now, Longbottom,” nudged the professor.

Longbottom gave a firm nod, and a focused look replaced his frightened one. He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and held out his wand at the ready. 

“On the count of three, Neville,” noted Professor Lupin, as he pointed his wand at the wardrobe’s handle from outside the rune circle. “One — two — three,  _ now _ !”

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the doorknob. The door knob clicked but did not burst open like many had expected it to. This particularly soothed Longbottom. Then, again, the tarnished gold-plated knob slowly squeaked in a turn. The door opened ever so slightly. Black menacing fog flowed out of the wardrobe and filled the traced circle in a second. As the fog seeped out, a large pale hand seized a grasp of the side, pulling itself out to be seen. 

Some of the class gasped, and the professor reassured everyone it was okay. Longbottom quivered in his spot. A heavy gulp could be heard from Longbottom, even from the back of the room where several particularly nasty Slytherins stood. Their delight in the Gyrffindor’s distress caused Longbottom to look back, but the professor directed him to face his more... materialised fear —  _ Professor Severus Snape. _

The black fog curled as the copy of Snape stepped down out of the wardrobe. Dark black and potion stained robes draped the tall, thickset man. His greasy, long, jet black hair clung to the pale face. His face was hollow at the cheeks, much like a newly sprung ghoul, and his large hook nose appeared to have endured a few too many breaks in its day. The resemblance was uncanny between Boggart and everyone’s ‘most beloved’ professor. 

“Good thing Professor Snape didn’t sit-in on today’s lecture…” Zabini whispered from behind me. “One Snape is bad enough, but  _ two? _ Longbottom wouldn’t be the only one quivering under the old bat’s gaze…” He chuckled softly to himself as he took a quick glance around the room. 

He was right. The Snape before us wasn’t even real, and everyone seemed tense. I nodded in response, keeping my gaze on the two most important people in the room. 

The Boggart eyed the room, grazing over the boy who stood before him. He knew something trapped him, and it was unsettling. 

Longbottom’s hand which held his wand shaked as he struggled to bring it back to ready position. The shakiness in his voice as he tried to cast the  _ Riddikulus _ charm caught the fake professor’s attention. 

“Ah, Longbottom…” the familiar voice called out. The boggart’s portrayal of the professor was incredible, it had everything down even to his mannerisms: his dark eyes snapping to Longbottom, the tug of his cloak into a self-embrace, the monotonous and daunting drawl. Everything was perfectly and frighteningly correct. The Boggart watched Longbottom closely. 

Again, Longbottom tried desperately to speak the required charm to best the creature posing as his worst fear.

A low hum came from the Boggart. “Pathetic as always, Longbottom…,” he began to circle. 

The boy flinched.

“Yes… So,  _ utterly, _ pathetic, you are, boy… You barely have the magical power to be considered a wizard…” The Boggart stared Longbottom down. “A  _ Squib _ , is what you are.”

Longbottom squawked in cowardice.

“A small,  _ pathetic,  _ squib… Not even a magical  _ toad _ would wish to be in your... disgraceful company… Trevor, was it?” 

The poor boy wept, again his voice shook as he tried to speak. 

The group of Slytherins in the back chuckled and questioned the boy’s placement in the House of Gryffindor. Professor Lupin snapped at them. They only muffled their torments there after. 

“Come now, Neville, my boy… you can do it,” Lupin tried to encourage.

Longbottom looked at the kind professor with glassy eyes filled with dread. 

“You’ve got it, son. Remember… the feathered hat… the feathered hat,” spoke Lupin.

“Look at  _ me _ , boy!” demanded the Boggart. Longbottom’s gazed snapped back at the embodiment of his fears. This was much worse than Snape himself. It tugged at everything the boy ever cried over when he should have been asleep. 

“You’re nothing. Your parents… exceptional wizards… would be... disgusted to see how their only son turned out.  _ A coward _ .”

Longbottom glanced at Lupin again. He was mouthing the charm. Longbottom looked back at the boggart, “No.” He stood straight with shaky knees. He rose his wand firm and high. “No. I will make my parents proud!” Longbottom declared, his voice stronger than it has ever been. “RIDDIKULUS!” 

Then,  _ CRACK! _

The evil-incarnate Professor Snape popped into a burst of black fog that fell slowly into the rest on the floor. The Gryffindors and Professor Lupin cheered loudly and clapped for the bravery of Neville Longbottom. The black smoke left behind a confused Severus Snape dressed in ornate witches’ fashion that his grandmother typically wore. A long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. The boggart tried to speak out, but the sounds of a squawking bird replaced Snape’s chilling voice. This made the boy roar with laughter along with his friends as he stepped out of the circle of torment. 

Clapping in glee, Professor Lupin shouted, “Parvati! Forward!”

The Patil twin’s chipper attitude quickly dropped as she looked at the professor in a bit of worry, then stepped into the circle. A blood-stained, bandaged mummy turned into an entangled mess. Finnegan’s woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face, a recognisable banshee, unfortunately turned into a rat after her deafening shriek, then a rattlesnake, then eyeball, severed hand, spider, spider on... rollerblades? 

The boggart was visibly getting confused and tired. With each transformation, it grew slower and slower to try and manipulate its new victim. I grew a bit worried. Then, in all the excitement, three boys rush into the forefront. 

“Get your dimwitted hands off me!” cried none other than today’s Dark Arts wallflower, Draco Malfoy. 

I was now sixth in line. Zabini after me and Potter was second after his red friend. 

“Come now, Draco! Do it! Do it!” Cheered on Crabbe and Goyle. They were both too dense to see Malfoy was visibly uncomfortable. I could only assume he knew exactly what he was going to see. 

“How much do you want to bet Draco Malfoy’s worst fear is holes in his pockets…” laughed Zabini in a whisper in my ear again. 

I shook my head. “No way anyone could be so shallow.”

“I said, hands off!” shouted Malfoy once more before they pushed him into the rune circle, stumbling forward. He just nearly landed on his face, but the frenzied boggart halted him. 

Malfoy shot up in a fright and took some stumbling steps backwards, but not quite enough to exit the perimeter. He looked stunned. The boggart steadied itself as its gaze focused in on the blond. It took the rough form of a man… no, two men. The tired boggart could not render the shape of what frightened the boy so, but the ghoulish figure of one and the growing of shining hair on the other was more than enough for the Prince of Slytherin to shout at it and run out of the circle. The Boggart fell into a heap of black fog once more. 

Many students laughed and mocked Malfoy’s cowardice. I only watched silently as he rushed out the classroom followed by the two nimrods that caused such panic in the boy. 

Professor Lupin cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly in his spot. “Alright, that’ll be enough for now, ladies and gentlemen… Harry, you’re up next…” He gestured towards the circle.

Potter’s laughter ceased. 

He straightened himself and took a large step into the circle. He stood firm in his spot, staring down at the black fog waiting for the boggart to reemerge, his wand clenched tightly in his hand.

Slowly, the black fog curled again. Sounds of shrieking wind filled the circle to the rims. Potter’s dark hair became more of a mess and his robe flapped about to his side. 

I noticed the black fog rising in a tornado-like fashion. “Professor…” I called.

“It’s quite alright, Y/L/N,” he dismissed.

My brows furrowed. 

Potter stood his ground, trying his best to resist the wind as he waited for his boggart to show itself. The black fog burst upwards and engulfed the entirety of the circle. Potter could no longer be seen.

The boggart was angry. 

“Professor!” I called again, but he waved me off, his eyes glued to the scene happening before us. 

Everyone grew uneasy.

Suddenly a woman's scream echoed through the room followed by a thunk on wood flooring.

“Harry!” I gasped and ran into the circle without a second thought.  _ This isn’t to be happening now _ .

“Y/L/N!” shouted Zabini after me, his grip on my wrist failing. 

It surrounded me in suffocating darkness and swirling winds. It was deafening. I could only hear the muffled panics on the other side whence I came. 

“Harry?” I called out, as I slowly tried to find my way in the hazy fog. 

The circle felt so large, endless even. I could hear the Professor shouting for us on the other side, but I kept forth. 

“Harry…?” I called once more and then, like the eye of a hurricane, there was a clearing. The wind was still and the only sound that could be heard was the boggart in the form of a rotted dementor sucking at Harry’s soul. 

The sight was horrific. 

The smell, horrific. Rotted flesh and sullied ash linens.

The dementor’s ashy, withered hands cradled Harry’s head. Its long cracked nails digging into the skin of his face.

“Get off him!” 

The dementor’s hooded umbrose head cracked as it turned to face me. It dropped Harry and approached me.

I panicked. I rushed past it and grabbed a hold of the fainted boy. The dementor’s mouth followed me. Its decayed mouth gaped open, allowed a horrific low screech out. But then, as it grew closer, it fell into a dark fog. 

I sighed, but my relief came too soon. The eye of the storm collapsed on us. Heavy winds spun again. I bent over Harry in a weak attempt to shield us. 

Utter darkness buried us. 

_ My Boggart. _

I heard screams all around us, but not the same as the one before meant for Harry, but of many people. Of young girls to grown men - wailing in agony - over lost ones. A deep tormenting cackle grew from under the cries. The corruption of one man only. 

Then spoke the man’s voice, airy and taunting, “The boy is dead!” it echoed all around me. 

I could hear large boulders cracking and falling onto stone. I gripped on to Harry tightly. “No!” I cried, burrowing my face into Harry. “They’re only nightmares! Only nightmares!” I told myself as I did every night. “They’re not real… not… real...” I slowly felt myself drifting, but before I went, I heard a shout and a bright light blinded me. 

_ It’s... not real... _


End file.
